


While I'm Still Young and Horny

by dapatty, s0ckpupp3t



Series: Oversexed!AU [3]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Come Shot, F/M, Gangbang, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Oversexed!AU) Frank was pretty sure he had the best ideas ever.  And gangbanging Gerard was right there at the top.  Maybe it was being back in America. Maybe it was because Pedicone had pulled his head out of the sand.  Whatever it was, it most certainly was all Frank’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While I'm Still Young and Horny

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of Wave One’s [Blaming Frank](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/2488.html) but no previous knowledge is needed, this just takes place during the American leg of the current tour. Also, beta’d by the ever so marvelous and shiny shadowrider special thanks to hangemhigh27 for reading-through, and everybody who had to listen to us talk about orgy-related minutae, over and over (like G and B).

Sometimes the ideas that came out of a sex-laden brain were really the best ideas ever. At least certain guitarists thought so. Maybe it was being back in America. Maybe it was because Pedicone had pulled his head out of the sand. Whatever it was, it most certainly was all Frank’s fault. And he was pretty damned proud of it.

 ****

[The Fine Art of Multi-tasking]

They finished the last song before the encores and filtered offstage, Frank taking off his soaked shirt before they’d even hit the dressing room and its beautiful pile of bottled water. Gerard made as if to go through the door, but Frank pulled him away by the arm, pushing him up against the wall by the door. The guys were talking about the set, the techs were resetting for the encore, and Frank only had eyes for Gerard, sweaty and glowing and half-hard and calmly confident, like he was after every show.

“Tell me I can fuck you tonight,” Frank muttered in his ear, and waited to see the fire flare in his eyes before continuing, “‘cause I want to push you down and make you fucking scream for me.”

“Yeah, Frankie, okay,” Gee grinned before looking around, listening to the distant chanting of the crowd. “Twist my arm, shit.”

“Good, now go sing already,” Frank smiled as Gerard nabbed another bottle of water and walked with him back to the wings, listening for the opening chords of ‘Cancer.’

It was way too long before they got back to the hotel, and they barely made it in the door before Frank was cursing at Gerard’s belt, pulling off his shoes, and practically tossing him on the nearest flat surface. Thankfully, it was the bed, but anything would have been fine, Frank would have figured that shit out. It took way too long to get rid of all the little pieces of clothing and find the lube, but by the time he did, he had his tongue down Gerard’s throat and two fingers in his ass, and they were both close to begging for it.

“Ready, fucking Christ, Frankie, need you.”

“Yeah?” Frank breathed, dashing off some lube and throwing the bottle across the room along with some socks, ignoring whatever he’d managed to knock over and possibly break in the process. He could barely remember to breathe, not with Gerard spread out, knees bent up, fucking up against him. “Been waiting, can’t, Gerard...” The syllables drew out as he slid in slow and hot and tight, and Gerard sighed, a sweet little sound like he was happy to be home after a long day. It made Frank’s throat tight, made him want more.

“The way you look at me, shit, the way you’ve been looking at me all night,” Gerard gasped out as Frank started to move, his hand drifting down to his cock. Frank caught it, caught Gerard’s other hand, and pinned him down by the wrists. He watched Gerard’s face heat up a little more, go a little more desperate, with every shallow stroke.

“No,” Frank said, by way of explanation, and deepened his thrusts until they were both moaning.

“Frankie, please, c’mon,” Gerard begged, ragged and brittle around the edges, and so beautiful with it that Frank ached. He fought against Frank’s hold on his wrists. “Close, fuckin’ touch me, god, please, please.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna come for me just like this.” Frank tightened his fingers. “Know you can, wanna see it, wanna see you come on my cock.”

Gerard just shook his head, biting his lip, arms starting to shake a little.

“Yeah, you can. You’re gonna, for me.” Okay, Frank wasn’t as certain as he sounded, but it was going to be a fun ride either way.

“Hate you, fuckin’ hate what you do to me, drive me crazy,” and the words were different, but his tone was the same as when they screwed slow and sweet and made softer pleas and promises.

“I dunno, Gee, what about last month? I think you liked that pretty well,” Frank gasped, still teasing.

“Shit, Frankie, not fair,” Gerard panted, “You should have seen you.”

“You want to do it again? Wanna try gettin’ covered, like me? More?” Gerard practically squeaked, and Frank knew he had him. “We could tie you up and take turns, fuck you ‘till you’re raw and open. Covered in come. Leaking with it,” Frank pushed.

Gerard swore, his eyes drawing tightly shut. “Frankie...”

“I bet Mike would help, too. We could just keep going around until we were done, just come in you, on you, until we were fucking dry and you couldn’t see straight-- Gee, fuck, so good--” Frank pinned him hard, gave him that little bit extra and came with him over the edge, crying out together, loud and guttural.

Gerard took a minute to breathe, slowly falling away from Frank. “You cheating, cheating asshole,” he muttered, sloppy kisses to Frank’s shoulder at war with his words.

“I know,” Frank tried to sound apologetic and failed, kissing Gerard with a smile. “So. Want me to ask him?”

“Ask who?”

“Mike.”

“What! Yes. No. What!” Gerard’s brain seemed to catch up, finally. “No! Shit, Frankie. Does he even know we’re fucking?”

“Everybody knows we’re fucking, Gee.”

“No, I mean, the band.” Gerard waved his hands like he was trying to explain existentialism to a three-year-old.

“I don’t know. I mean, he could be blind and deaf,” Frank mused, kissing down Gerard’s neck. “I haven’t tweeted about it, but for all I know he’s in the betting pool somewhere.”

“You are _not_ tweeting about it.” Gerard sounded mortified.

“The first rule of Fight Club?”

“Exactly. The third rule should be no using cheating, torture, or pillow talk to plan actual events, you asshole, but you probably threw that one out the window a long time ago.”

“Aww, Gee. You never let me have any fun,” Frank whined, brain going somewhere else entirely. He could probably arrange another orgy; hell, he’d been waiting ever since London to do that shit again. But to center it around Gee, and get Mike to join in...

“This wasn’t fun?” Gerard interrupted Frank’s planning and turned on full puppy-dog eyes, and Frank wasn’t sure whether to crack up or not. He managed to keep a straight face.

“No.” Gerard’s eyes widened, and for a moment he looked like the most horrified puppy in the world. “Baby. Fun was somewhere far, far behind that shit. Fun is in the dust.” Frank watched the relief and annoyance spread over Gerard’s face. All the way down to his arms. And his fingers. Shit. “Ow! Ow, ow, uncle, ow, please let go of my balls, fuck, leggo, mercy, ow.”

 ****

[The Angel in Question]

The phone rang. The room phone. Why the room phone was ringing, Mikey wasn’t sure. It was eight o’clock in the goddamn morning.

His asshole brother picked it up. “Gerard,” Mikey growled, and pulled the pillow over his head.

Eventually, Gerard’s weight settled back where it had been, and Mikey’s pillow got pulled away.

“Frank and Mike are going out to tour a brewery and try on cheese hats, or something.”

“Okay.” Mikey waited for news of the orphanage-and-puppy-rescue fire tornado that had better be the actual reason he was awake.

“Do you want to go?”

“No. I want to sleep. That’s why I turned my phone off.”

“I think Frankie confused us with. With people who wake up in the morning. For stupid shit.” Gerard grumbled, putting his cold nose into Mikey’s armpit.

“Why are you cold?”

“You took the covers.” Gerard sounded adorably miserable.

“You answered the phone. It was a clear forfeiture of blanket rights. C’mere,” Mikey said, throwing the comforter over both of them. They got another hour of sleep like that, tangled in each other and drooling, before Gerard moved out of bed, made some noise, and came back. “It is nine fucking thirty. We don’t have to be on the bus until two. What is _wrong_ with you.”

“Same as always.” Gerard shrugged.

“You’re a freak.” Mikey guessed flatly.

“Close enough.”

Mikey considered. “Is that coffee?”

“Brewing. Wanna shower with me?” Gerard waited. Mikey stared, then grabbed at Gerard’s ear. “Ow, ow, the fuck.”

“Just looking for your secret freckle. Okay, you’re not pod-grown. Now, say that shit again?”

Gerard sighed and rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Mikey grinned, poking Gerard’s ear. “Frank’s been on a campaign to addict you to shower sex, and now he’s gone, huh.”

“No!” Gerard rolled away, punching a pillow sulkily. “Not necessarily.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” Mikey sighed, pushing away the covers. “But I don’t have any weird soap.”

“Frank keeps accidentally leaving his in my bag.” Gerard sounded defeated.

“Accidentally, sure.” Mikey stretched, idly scratching his balls, wondering why nobody had made coffee-flavored toothpaste. Mint was a terrible flavor to go with coffee. Shit, it was early.

The bed squeaked. Gee groaned and went to poke at the coffeemaker, bringing back a cup of something that might have resembled coffee in a past life. Mikey winced. He gave Gerard an eyebrow.

“Real coffee from room service as soon as there’s pants.” He disappeared and the shower kicked on. Mikey took a few gulps of coffee. Not as bad as it looked - Gerard must have used both filter packs. Smart. He finished the cup and ducked into the bathroom. Gerard hadn’t stepped in yet. He was just standing there, looking at the shower curtain, drinking another cup of coffee. It was pathetic. Mikey picked up his mug and set it on the bathroom counter, kissing his shoulder.

“Alright. I’m getting in the shower, and you’re following me.” He drew back the curtain, stepped in, and held out his hand. “C’mon, you wanted this.”

“Changed my mind,” Gee complained, but followed him into the bathtub anyway. Mikey grinned, popped open Frank’s soap, and started washing last night’s show off both of them.

“How do you even get this filthy?” Mikey mused, nudging Gerard under the water.

“Talent,” he replied, washing his face and grimacing. He rinsed, and Mikey stepped closer behind him, washing lower.

“Is being this hard in the morning talent, too, or has Frank just classically conditioned you to have this sort of response to his soap?” Mikey grinned and bit the back of Gerard’s neck, slippery hands lathering teasingly.

Gerard’s cock jerked in his grip. “Uhm. Both? Could be both.”

“Uh-huh. C’mere,” Mikey encouraged, and tugged on Gerard’s shoulder. He turned, and Mikey kissed him, tasting coffee and warm water from the shower. Gerard put a hand on the soap dish to steady himself, and sank down to his knees, looking up. Mikey was beginning to see what Frank liked about this, because Gerard looked gorgeous wet. The water beaded on his shoulders and made him glow, got in his eyelashes and made them look even darker and longer. Gerard’s mouth was always endlessly distracting, but especially when it was around Mikey’s dick. Mikey hadn’t been all the way hard yet, but Gerard sucked until Mikey filled his mouth and hand. “Mmm. Morning,” Mikey groaned, content.

Gerard pulled off, smacking his lips. “Morning.” He smiled and tugged at Mikey’s ankle until Mikey lifted his foot, and Gerard put it on the bathtub ledge. “Yeah.”

Mikey sighed when he got Gerard’s mouth back, and felt his fingers tucked warm behind his balls. He brushed a strand of hair out of Gerard’s eyes, gasping as Gerard swallowed him down further and pressed a fingertip inside him. It wasn’t long until Mikey was gasping and cursing, putting an arm against the tile to steady himself, and Gerard was looking up again, replacing his mouth with his hand.

“What do you want, Mikey?” Gerard asked, low and only just loud enough to hear over the shower, and Mikey’s brain fused, because he knew Gerard meant it. He could ask for anything.

“I want... fuck.” Mikey bit off, trying to breathe, working at the idea of wanting to do anything besides fuck Gerard’s fist and come staring at the open hunger written on his face, raw and predatory. He casted about for the dozen thoughts he’d had before seeing his brother on his knees, finally seizing on one that had come up a few times. “I want you to bend me over this counter, so I can see us in the mirror.” Mikey realized that he wanted it even more now that he’d heard it out loud.

Gerard bit his lip. “Fuck, yeah.” Gerard stood, turning off the water, and got them both towels. Mikey busied himself with drying off, and Gerard finished his mug of coffee and disappeared for a minute, and by the time Mikey had hung up his towel, he was back, holding a bottle of lube and smiling roguishly. He was clean and awake, seconds away from fucking Mikey and they had at least three hours before they had to go anywhere. Mikey smiled, too.

He stole the lube out of Gerard’s hand before he had a chance to register what was going on, and kissed up Gerard’s jaw. It was good enough, as distractions go, and Mikey managed to get the lube open and onto his fingers without having to bite Gerard’s neck too hard. Good. He hated leaving hickeys on tour, although Gee always seemed to enjoy picking out the most ridiculous “camouflage” for them he could find. Paint, feather boas, sharpie. Freak. Mikey grinned and leaned up to kiss him, pressing his lips into soft swollen ones, and reached back, fingering himself deep until he was moaning into the kiss, and Gerard broke off to look. Then his face changed, and Mikey smiled, a thrill of victory chasing through his belly. That was the best face. Confusion melting into blank shock, then hot lust, all in a second. It always made Mikey shiver when he managed that kind of reaction, and he did now, biting his lip to keep from moaning.

“God. Mikey. You should see you.” Gerard’s eyes were dark, heated.

“Yeah?” Mikey curved his fingers, biting off a gasp, teasing Gerard with his pleasure.

“Yeah. Look.”

Mikey turned to look in the mirror, still steamed up at the top, and there were Gerard’s eyes, focused on Mikey’s reflection. Hard lines of pale skin, flushed with pleasure. Head tilted back, back arched, fingers angled deep and thumb braced against the curve of his own ass. Mikey had to admit he looked pretty good, and made a faint noise of surprised approval. Gerard’s eyes flashed. His gaze never leaving the mirror, Gee wrapped his hand around Mikey’s wrist and pressed, encouraging him to fuck himself a little harder, and Mikey moaned.

“Look so damn good for me,” Gerard sighed, mouthing Mikey’s neck, letting go of his wrist in favor of grabbing onto his hips. Mikey took the hint, sliding off his fingers. He grabbed the lube, getting some into his palm and working it onto Gerard’s cock. Gerard turned them both until he had Mikey bent over the counter, both of them grinning wolfishly into the mirror.

“C’mon,” Mikey wiggled, propping himself up on folded arms.

“Impatient, god. Couldn’t even wait for me to open you up,” Gerard murmured, but sounded pleased as he slid his cock against Mikey’s ass.

“That a problem?” Mikey challenged, giving their reflections a devious look as he lifted his hips.

“No problem here,” Gerard shook his head at the mirror, and looked away briefly, guiding his cock into Mikey’s tight heat with teasing nudges before he paused, about halfway in. Mikey reminded himself not to close his eyes, not to lose himself in the stretched-full pleasure that skated up his spine. It was worth it, to see Gerard with his head thrown back, jaw gone loose in a soundless gasp. _Mikey_ had done that, made him look like that, overwhelmed him. It felt good to see, and Mikey’s cock jumped a little against his belly.

Gerard’s hands tightened on Mikey’s waist, and his eyes opened again as he slid the rest of the way in. They both groaned, and Gee gave a smile, stilling for just an instant before moving again, the slow hot drag of his cock against Mikey’s prostate making him see stars.

“Aw, fuck,” Mikey panted, pushing back against Gerard on the next stroke, encouraging.

“Yeah,” Gee sighed, voice low and filthy. His hair was still a little wet, he had a tiny shade of stubble, and Mikey would never say it out loud, but he looked like an angel, quietly rapturous and so beautiful it hurt. For the briefest second, Mikey was afraid he _had_ said it out loud, because Gerard’s eyes snapped to his in the mirror, but Gee just kept smiling.

“Do you always look this smug when you’re fucking me?” Mikey teased, an edge of suspicion in his voice.

“Maybe,” Gerard bit his lip and sped up a little, the quiet slap of flesh-on-flesh bouncing off the tiled walls. He lifted his chin at the mirror, leaning in to grab Mikey’s dick. “Do we always look this good?”

“Fuckin’ hot,” Mikey moaned helplessly, watching Gerard lick his lips. “Wanna see us come.” Gerard fell into a good rhythm, fucking deep into Mikey and jerking him with a tight hand, and Mikey was abruptly certain that it wouldn’t be long, he couldn’t hold off. He could feel it making his mouth water, his eyes squeeze shut, and his fingers close tight over his forearms.

His awareness snapped back into place when Gerard let go of Mikey’s waist with his other hand, and firmly pulled Mikey’s hair into his fist, tilting his head back.

“Keep your eyes open,” Gerard said, a rusty voice over panting breaths. Mikey’s spine was bowed, his thighs shook with need, and Gerard’s eyes drilled into him. Mikey needed just a little more, just a little harder, just a little something, he was so goddamn close. He couldn’t find the words, just a breathless whine, pleading with his eyes, and that was enough. Gerard slammed into him hard, coming with a grunt that could have been Mikey’s name, and Mikey shot his load under the sink with a cry. He just managed to keep his eyes open to a blurry, white-at-the-edges vision of his brother with a crimson halo, breathing curses like prayers.

The angel in question slumped on Mikey like a ton of bricks.

“Nnngh.”

“Mmm,” Mikey replied. He gave it a few moments, then milked Gerard’s softening cock inside him, grinning as he got a muffled squawk in response. He squeezed again. “Guess what.”

“What.”

“There’s a bed.”

“You’re shittin’ me,” Gee said dryly, still not moving.

“If you don’t believe that one, you’re gonna love this one,” Mikey said, wiggling until Gerard moved.

“Mmm?” Gerard picked up a washcloth, threw it at the sink, turned on a tap.

“We can sleep like two more hours.” Mikey grabbed the cloth, wrung it out, cleaned them off.

“Fuck. That’s the second-hottest thing you’ve said all morning,” Gerard said, tossing the washcloth back in the sink and turning off the bathroom light.

“Do I even want to know? If you say the pod-grown thing, we’re never having sex again,” Mikey grumbled, shoving Gerard back towards the bed.

“I dunno,” Gerard said airily, pretending to consider. “You really think I look like an angel, Mikes?” Gerard grinned cheekily.

“I did _not_ ,” Mikey groaned in disbelief, flopping on the bed and planting his face in a pillow.

“You _so_ did!”

“Never. Having sex. Again.” Mikey reminded, trying to look serious while Gerard pulled him in to spoon.

“Hmm. I doubt you’ll be able to resist my charm.” Gerard kissed behind Mikey’s ear.

“G’head, test that theory.” Mikey pulled Gee’s arm up to his chest, cuddled like it was a teddy bear. “Schmuck.”

“Angel,” Gerard corrected, and they slept.

 

 ****

[Drummers Need Love Too]

“Frankie?” Pedicone didn’t mean to make it a question, not with the way Frank had him pinned against the hotel room door. He knew what the fuck was up, especially with Frank’s denim covered hard-on pushing into his hip.

“Hi,” Frank chirped, grinning like a motherfucker, eyes dark.

“I thought when you said we were gonna play video games, I’d heard the innuendo correctly,” Mike mused, grinding back.

“Well, video games are still on the menu,” Frank smirked, “but first,” his voice trailed off as he started to reach for the zipper of Pedicone’s jeans.

“How ‘bout a little less in the hallway?” Pedicone asked. Hell, he’d go naked on stage, but his mom would kick his ass if he got caught having sex in a hallway of a hotel in front of God and everybody.

“Aw, gonna be all shy, Mike?” Frank teased.

“Call me shy again and I won’t suck your dick,” Pedicone said seriously. “I’ve just got some standards, you little shit.”

“Right,” Frank winked, but he opened the door even as he started climbing on Mike and let Pedicone half-drag, half-carry him into the room, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

Mike practically tossed Frank onto the nearest bed and Frankie giggled, watching appreciatively as Pedicone slid off his pants and underwear and climbed onto the bed, stealing a kiss.

He broke off the kiss and started licking his way down Frank’s chest, stopping to tease a nipple with his teeth. Frank squirmed and started talking shit.

“Mike,” he moaned, “Shit.” Mike tweaked Frank’s other nipple with his fingers.

“Hmmm?” Pedicone hummed.

“Not that,” Frank panted, “I don’t apprec-hnn- appreciate what you’re doing.”

Mike sucked a sweet little bruise on Frank’s side, kissing the skin afterward.

“Oh. _Fuck._ ” Frank moaned. “But.”

Pedicone sucked a matching hickey on the other side.

“Sh-it,” Frank panted, hips bucking. “Not that I’m not enjoying myself. But, you could suck my cock, anytime.”

Pedicone glanced up at Frank, and then at Frank’s hard, leaking dick, his hands resting on Frank’s belly, and said helpfully, “Oh, this cock, here?”

“Oh, you shithead,” Frank muttered, trying to wiggle closer to Mike’s hands, but Mike held him still. “Yes, you asshole. That cock.”

“You know, Frank,” Pedicone said conversationally.

“ _Asshole,_ ” Frank answered, catching on to where Mike was going with this.

“You’re being kind of a little shit to the person you want to suck your cock,” Mike shrugged, tweaking a nipple.

“ _Mike_ ,” Frank whined.

“What do you say, Frankie?” Pedicone asked, smiling fiendishly.

“Motherfucker, please,” Frank gasped as Mike’s fingers brushed against his cock and lightly, teasingly began to stroke.

“Please what?” Pedicone asked, smearing precome with his thumb.

“Mike,” Frank gasped.

“Say it,” Pedicone said placidly.

“Aw, hell. Please suck my cock, you incredible goddamn asshole,” Frank groaned, hips bucking as Pedicone teased Frank’s balls.

“Well, since you asked,” Pedicone smirked and then licked down Frank’s cock, tongue teasing the underside.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck, shit, _fuck_ ,” Frank babbled, trying to thrust up, his hand on the top of Mike’s head, clinging. “Mike. Jesus. Your mouth. Oh. _Shit._ ”

Pedicone held Frank down as he swallowed down the base and back up. He sucked, tongue teasing the slit and the vein until Frank was a mess of fucked-out babbling and gasps.

“Nnnnngg, Shit, fuck fuck fuck,” Frank moaned, desperate. “Oh God. So good. Cl-close.”

Mike pulled off and Frank squawked.

“What are you even doing? I want that back,” Frank groaned. “Fuck you. _Evil._ Asshole.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait, aren’tcha,” Pedicone said, enjoying himself immensely. “Turn over and up.”

“Teasing asshole,” Frank muttered, but he was grinning and obeyed. He waggled his ass at Mike.

“You’re so fuckin’ mouthy,” Pedicone tsked, voice low and filthy.

“That’s Ray’s complaint, usually,” Frank snarked.

“I bet he likes you like this too, huh?” Pedicone asked, spreading Frank with his thumbs. Frank stilled as Mike’s fingers teased, close to Frank’s asshole. “All spread out and eager with your pink, pretty little hole?”

“Mike,” Frank’s breath caught. Maybe he wasn’t used to being this objectified. Pedicone was absurdly proud of knocking him off his game. “What.”

Before Frank could finish the question, Pedicone leaned in and licked all the way down Frank’s crack, stopping at the tight hole, teasing with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh! Oh _Jesus_ ,” Frank moaned, spouting a string of curses that trailed off into moans as Pedicone pressed his tongue flat and wet against the heat of delicate skin. He felt Frank twitch against his mouth and traced circles, enjoying what it was like to get Frank past the point of speech. He opened Frank up with his tongue, swirling inside, stretching, taking his time to drive Frank insane.

By the sound of it, it was working. “Mike,” Frank keened, moaning, fists mangling the sheets. “Fuck. Fuck me. Shit. Christ. Mike. Fuck me. Come on.”

Mike hummed twice, a muffled “uh-uh,” and kept licking, fucking Frank with his tongue, opening him up wet and messy and hot.

“Mike,” Frank panted. “ _Please._ ” Frank’s voice broke, drawing the word into two syllables. It was a nice sound. Mike hummed, again, feeling smug, and pressed one last kiss to Frank’s hole, relaxed and fluttering under his lips, then pulled back so he could reach the lube out of his bag.

“Jesusfuck,” Frank groaned, resting on his elbows a minute, ass still in the air.

“Yeah, I liked that too,” Pedicone said, uncapping the lube and slicking his fingers and sighed appreciatively at the slide of the first finger, quickly adding a second. “Fuck, you make the best noises.”

“Amazing asshole,” Frank muttered, pushing back against his fingers. “More. Hurry. Fuck, now.”

“Impatient little fucker,” Pedicone retorted, twisting and tucking in a third finger, getting a groan when he hit Frank just right.

“Damn right,” Frank moaned. “C’mon.”

“Well, alright,” Pedicone purred, removing his hand, lubing up his cock and pushing in in one slow, deliberate movement. “Hot and tight for me, Frankie. I love seeing you like this, all fucked out from my mouth and beggin’ for it.”

Pedicone slid out and back in, appreciating the glide and Frank rocked back, moaning. He started building a rhythm and Frank moaned louder. He reached around and jacked Frank’s cock in time with his thrusts. Frank was just a mess of babbling curses, shouting Mike’s name as he came all over Mike’s hand.

Mike just lasted a few more thrusts before he came. He couldn’t last with Frank clenching around him. He slumped half on Frank and half propped on an arm. He slid out with a hiss and Frank collapsed in a smiling heap onto the bed.

“I guess that means I get the washcloth,” Pedicone said, wondering if he could stand yet.

“Yep, the teasing asshole gets the washcloth,” Frank confirmed.

“Spoken like someone who’d know,” Pedicone observed and pulled himself up, obediently getting something to clean them both up. Should’ve just used a sheet. Oh, well.

Less sticky, they ended up spooning, mostly under the sheet on Pedicone’s bed.

“So,” Frank started, and how he still could manage thought after that, Pedicone had no idea. But that was Frankie. Frankie was inexplicable. Always seven different directions at once. Climbing shit he shouldn’t, fucking with people’s drums. Generally being an adorable little asshole. Post-coital verbalization really shouldn’t surprise Pedicone by now.

“So?” Pedicone asked, too blissed-out to care what could possibly come out of Frankie’s mouth. Hell, Frank could ask him to put on a cheese head again and he’d do that, no problem. Along with any number of other completely random things, in a heartbeat. It was part of their best friend code, which included the wearing of stupid hats, nearly missing bus call, and the occasional really filthy sexual act.

“So, wanna go to a gangbang?” Frank asked.

If Mike hadn’t been so fucked-out, he might have fallen off the bed flailing, because _what_. Seriously, what. Did he actually hear that right? Did Frankie really just ask? That?

“Yes. No. I mean. What?” Mike sputtered. “Context? Or do I even want to know? Jamia didn’t warn me about this.” Seriously. What. Not that Frank hadn’t asked him to do any weird kinky shit in that realm before, it was just, sudden or something. And just what.

“You heard me. Gang. Bang. With Gerard.” Frank elaborated helpfully with waving hands. “See, we haven’t done one of those yet. And Gee seems really into the idea. And four would be more fun that three. To be the gang, I mean. More the merrier, right?”

“Oh my God. All of you guys are really actually fucking each other. You and Gerard was a no brainer, but everyone else. Well, you and. Is there anyone you’re not?” Pedicone tried to remember how to make actual sentences. “Well, I have seen Mikeyway. And fuck, Ray. Damn, okay actually, why would I even be surprised? Not like any of you were quiet. I just didn’t know you had... all. Right. And you are. You’re being serious,” Pedicone said, surprised and a little confused while completely rambling his ass off. He belatedly hoped he hadn’t said anything very offensive.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious about inviting you to a gangbang?” Frank asked, looking confused, sincerity in every word.

“Dude, have you met you, you little shit?” Pedicone laughed.

“Oh well. Point,” Frank allowed, grinning. “But you’re so there, right? Shit’s gonna be epic!”

How could Pedicone say no to that? Who could? Jesus wept. Gangbang Gerard. Fucking shit.

“Frankie, Jesus,” Pedicone was at a loss. Seriously. This wasn’t even close to fair. What would Gerard say if he just showed up to that shit? Because seriously. He wasn’t in their band-band. Not up to his balls like they all were with their history and their innuendo and togetherness. Not that he and Frank didn’t have some of that, but. He and Frank were just that. Him and Frank. Best friends who occasionally blew off some steam, who were more likely to pull pranks on each other than get naked together.

It was like they had a club, a big giant fucking-club that was sacred or something, and Pedicone didn’t want to be the shithead to fuck any of it up. He liked these guys. He loved playing with these guys. He even loved Dewees. He didn’t want to be the asshole here.

“Dude, you’re thinking too much,” Frank said, smiling fondly at him. Like he knew what Pedicone was thinking, like he could read him like he did books. Seeing and assessing the level of freakout and managing it. On some kind of tactical level. Like they were just talking about video games and not some kind of kinky orgy. Same old, same old.

“Maybe someone should,” Pedicone said, a little desperately, because he knew that if Frankie stared at him and smiled for long enough, that Pedicone would fold and say yes to whatever Frank asked. Because that was just how they were. That’s how everybody was. Nobody could say no to Frankie.

“And it was very meaningful of you and some shit, but you’re saying yes, right?” Frank’s grin was infectious.

“Well,” Pedicone waffled. He was folding.

“Say yes to the gangbang,” Frank sing-songed.

“You are gonna be insufferable about this, aren’t you? Whether I do it or not.” Pedicone stalled, feeling the last of his resolve slipping away.

“Of course! Shock and awe at my awesooome,” Frank crowed a little.

“So humble, too,” Pedicone rolled his eyes. Then quietly, muffled against his hand. “Yeah, okay.”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you over your blushing?” Frank poked at Pedicone’s arm.

“Yes, motherfucker,” Pedicone thwapped Frank with a pillow. “Now can we play video games?”

He really needed to call Jamia and complain. Couldn’t a guy get some warning about this kind of thing? It wasn’t even on the betting pool list. And now, Mike couldn’t even put it ON the list, thanks to the Gabe Saporta Rule. Damnit.

 

 ****

[Use Your Words]

They were never going to get done with press. ‘They’ being him and Mikey, because Gerard had a cold and Ray beat them at rock-paper-rock-scissors-lizard-Spock because he was twelve and clearly cheated. Never gonna get done. It was taking all day. Or at least it _felt_ like it was taking all day. Frankie squirmed some more on the couch, and Mikey just smirked at him. Frank looked at Mikey, who just kept smiling. The smile even reached his eyes.

Actually, Mikey had been buckets of adorable today. He hadn’t hidden behind sunglasses, he’d laughed and tussled with Frank, he’d cracked jokes. Frank smiled back. In fact, he must have been grinning like an idiot, because Mikey started giggling at him.

“What?” Frank asked.

Mikey just shook his head, making his hair bounce wildly. “Nothing,” he said in his usual monotone, but Frank could hear mirth there, read it in his crooked eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” Frank smirked at him.

“You know,” Mikey said conversationally, whispering in Frank’s ear. “If you’re good, you might just get a reward later.”

“A pony? Covered in coffee?” Frank gave his best overexcited kid impression. That’d be pretty awesome, though. At least the coffee part.

“Do you one better,” Mikey smirked, and Frank was pretty sure there was some innuendo tucked in his tone.

“Oh yeah?” Frank waggled his eyebrows, causing Mikey to giggle.

“Later,” Mikey promised.

Frank pouted and Mikey pinched his cheek causing Frankie to squawk and declare, “Asshole!”

About that time the next interviewer cleared her throat and the waiting began. Frank went back to fidgeting and Mikey went back to rolling his eyes at him. And, because Frank was pretty sure that Mikey was promising dirty, filthy things for later, it was only natural that they wouldn’t get a moment alone until after the show and not in the green room like Frank was hoping, because Mikeyway was an impossible tease. Mikey was always distracting onstage, but Frank was sure he was more tonight - more alive, happier. If that wasn’t bad enough, he groped Frank at every opportunity when the stage lights were down. It was clearly evil. Clearly. But Frank loved that shit.

Frank had resigned himself to a restless night on the bus, until he remembered what day it was on their schedule. They had another hotel night, and Mikey was still smiling at him. Once the door to their room was closed, Frank practically tackled Mikey against it, kissing and trying to pull Mikey’s tank off.

Mikey grabbed his hands, stopping him, smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. Frank whined, “Mikeyy...” Frank tried to free his hands and grinned. So this was how it was going to go. All right.

“Such a pushy little shit,” Mikey observed fondly, guiding Frank backwards to the nearest bed. “Always horny. Making other people horny. Making certain people’s brothers’ responses to soap Pavlovian, which is actually kinda impressive.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s part of my charm,” Frank beamed. “I’ve got soap for you too, you know.”

“The soap won’t be needed this evening,” Mikey said.

“But showers!” Frank was back to whining.

“Maybe later,” Mikey said, tossing Frank’s sneakers to the side and out of tripping distance.

“I guess we’ll just have to get really filthy,” Frank said, sounding as resigned as he could.

“Martyr,” Mikey tsked, getting Frank out of his pants and shirt. Frank slid out of his underwear and kicked them somewhere towards his shoes, because he was helpful and Mikey was taking his sweet everloving time getting to the fucking. He reached for Mikey’s shirt again.

“Yeah, it’s such a challenge being me,” Frank tried for serious, but giggled, pulling on the hemmed cotton impatiently.

“Clearly,” Mikey rolled his eyes and pulled off his shirt. He dropped it on the floor, then stopped, hands fiddling with the button on his pants, hair hiding his eyes.

“What, Mikes?” Frank asked, scooting to the edge of the bed so he could run his hands along Mikey’s sides.

“I’d, um.” Mikey paused.

“Yeah?” Frank silently congratulated himself for his restraint. He hadn’t shouted impatiently, started jerking off on his own, or torn off Mikey’s pants, not even a little bit. Damn, he was good.

“I’d... really like to fuck you,” Mikey licked his lips and turned dark, hungry eyes on Frank.

“Oh fuck, please,” Frank groaned, hard cock giving a twitch at the thought of Mikey inside of him. It wasn’t something they often did, though it wasn’t like Frank thought about it. He didn’t think Mikey did much, either. They’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm, Frank initiating things and watching delightedly as Mikey warmed up to everything from the inside out. A _hot_ rhythm, but not something Frank minded changing up occasionally. Especially not if Mikey wanted it. Although, if he was mentioning it now, he’d probably been thinking about it for a while. All day, at least, and that was even hotter. Frank swallowed. “Yeah,” he added, just for the sake of clarity.

Mikey smirked, “such a slut,” he observed, not unkindly. Maybe with a hint of relief.

“Yes,” Frank grinned. “I’d be even more of a slut for your cock. Naked. Now. Lemme see you, Mikeyway.” It was Frank’s version of reassurance.

“Frankie,” Mikey murmured, unbuckling boots and kicking out of both pants and shoes. Frank decided that meant it was working.

“C’mon,” Frank urged and gave a happy sigh as Mikey slid out of underwear. “Hard and leaking for my ass already. Mikey, _Jesus._ ”

“How do I even shut you up?” Mikey wondered, retrieving the lube from his bag.

“You won’t,” Frank was smug as he started to slowly jack himself. “You like me mouthy.”

“Maybe,” Mikey agreed, smirking a little as he coated his fingers. “Scoot back.”  
Frank did, getting a little tangled in the sheets as he spread his legs to allow Mikey access.

“Do you want me like this, Mikey?” Frank pushed, half teasing and half honestly curious. “On my back where you can see how much I want this, see how hard I am for you? Or do you want me on my hands and knees, spread and begging?”

Mikey groaned, “Fuckingchrist.” He leaned down and stole a kiss. And Frank read _such a filthy, impossible fucker_ in the corner of his mouth, the tilt of his eyebrow. “Stay on your back.”

“Gladly,” Frank moaned as Mikey pushed his index finger inside. “So good. Gimme more.”

“Mouthy fucker,” Mikey groaned and added his middle finger, scissoring a little, working Frank’s hole sweet and slow. Frank watched Mikey’s face, the concentration in his jaw and heat in his eyes.

“Just like that,” Frank moaned and bucked a little. “Stretch me good. Your _fingers,_ Jesus. Mikey.”

“More?” Mikey asked, maybe looking a little smug, fingers stretching deeper, teasing against the prostate, and Frank bucked his hips, clenching like he was trying to keep Mikey’s fingers for himself.

“Fuck, Mikey, shit, there,” Frank babbled. “More and there. C’mon, fuckin’ leaking for it, so hard.”

“Oh yeah?” Mikey teased, added more lube and tucked a third finger in.

“God, please, yeah, no, I want,” Frank wasn’t sure where that sentence had been going; he got lost in curses and consonants. Mikeyway was going to drive him crazy, and he was totally okay with that.

“Now, Frankie?” Mikey purred into Frank’s ear. “Want me now?”

“Fuck yes,” Frank moaned, and he wanted. Wanted more, wanted Mikey, wanted to hear what Mikey wanted. Maybe it was the interviews, maybe it was a day full of waiting, but Mikey was saying what he wanted, with, like, actual words, and damn if that wasn’t like Spanish fucking fly to Frank. He’d say or do whatever would keep that shit up. “Please, please, please. Ready, fucking need you.”

Mikey groaned and stole another kiss, applying more lube to his hand and jacking his cock a few times before lining up with Frank’s hole. He pushed in teasingly slow. “How’s it feel? This what you wanted?”

“Mikeyway, fuck,” Frank sighed a moan, wrapping his legs around Mikey’s waist. “Open me up so good with your cock, so hot. Jesus. Fucking _amazing._ Want you to fuck me open, really fuck me, wedge your cock up in me, shoot inside me, fucking want it, Mikey, want you.”

“Ah shit,” Mikey let out a shaky breath. “So hot and tight. Gonna moan for me?”

“Make me, Mikey,” Frank challenged as Mikey slid nearly completely back out and shimmied back in, slowly, taking his time. “Slow, like that? Driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Mikey grunted, but only made Frank wait a little before quickening his thrusts.

“Now who’s mouthy,” Frank panted and then was reduced to moans when Mikey shifted his angle and started hitting him just right. “Motherfucker there, there, shit, _shit._ Mikey.”

Mikey was amazing. Frank felt like he was coming apart at the seams with Mikey’s cock deep in his ass and the look of unfiltered want on Mikey’s face. He was beautiful, especially all fucked out like this.

“ _Mikey_ ,” Frank gasped and came, shooting all over his belly, twitching, moaning, loud and messy.

Mikey kept thrusting through it and came buried deep, moaning Frank’s name, brokenly and a little awed. He promptly collapsed with his head in the crook of Frank’s neck. Frank absently stroked Mikey’s back.

“Yeah,” Frank said, when he had enough brain cells to talk again, “it was good for me too.”

Mikey playfully slapped his side, “Asshole.”

“You love it,” Frank declared.

“Well, yeah,” Mikey agreed and slid out with a hiss, standing and scratching his balls contentedly.

Frank hopped up and announced, “Shower time!”

“Frankie,” Mikey protested, giving his best pout.

“That look doesn’t work on me when Gerard does it either,” Frank smiled, grabbing first the soap from his bag and then Mikey’s hand. Maybe after getting the spunk and show washed off, they’d feel up to round two.

Then again, Mikey was kind of pliant right now. He wasn’t even fighting against Frank pulling him into the shower and starting on his hair. He looked content, and possibly easily persuaded. Which was good, because Frank had a very clever, very hot plan to introduce to him. Somehow. Frank tried to decide how to bring it up.

“What are you up to?” Mikey asked, because apparently Frank was transparent. Problem solved!

“Why would I be up to anything?” Frank asked, trying his best for a serious face. The smirk probably ruined it, though.

“For one,” Mikey took the soap and proceeded to wash Frank’s hair. “You are always up to something, especially if you’re awake and standing.”

“I resemble that,” Frank was all mock indignation and Mikey laughed at him.

“So, what are you up to Frankie?” Mikey’s eyebrows were all frown.

“I might be planning another epic orgy,” Frank said, very seriously. “I need to know if you’re on board.”

“I’d say yes, but I’m pretty sure there’s a catch,” Mikey smirked.

“Only if you count Gerard’s not-quite-yes to a gangbang a catch,” Frank blurted.

Mikey blinked at him. Swallowed. Opened his mouth. Closed it. “Gangbang my brother?”

“Yep,” Frank beamed, suddenly fairly certain he could win Mikey over on the merits of the epic hotness.

Mikey nodded. “Tell me more about his plan.”  
*****

 ****

[The Best Part of Waking Up]

Mikey wasn’t wearing a towel this time. No. That would have been too convenient. (And who could really get that lucky twice in one tour?) Ray considered bribing Frank to douse Mikey with sticky substances more often. Frank would probably do it for nothing. Hell, it might even be one of the scenarios in the betting pool. He didn’t know for sure. None of the girls were talking because they felt like it was cheating. The girls were amazing like that, Ray mused. And, okay, filthy-minded as all hell for having the damned thing in the first place, but that was amazing too. Whatever. Maybe he just needed coffee. It was still early.

But Mikey was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt that he’d pointlessly put on after his shower last night. Even better, he was taking them off and tossing them away.

“You’re still filthy,” Mikey observed, not unkindly, as he licked a long swipe along Ray’s throat, tasting the salt that lingered there.

“Yeah,” Ray smirked. “If you even suggest a shower, you never get to room with Frank again.”

“I wasn’t,” Mikey objected, taking Ray’s half-hard cock in his hand and jacking it, encouraging it to fill. “ _I_ have not been brainwashed in that particular department by Frank, thankyouverymuch.”

Ray moaned as Mikey’s long fingers teased his balls, thumb smearing precome. “Not so much for foreplay this morning?”

“I’m ready,” Mikey shrugged, grinning devilishly.

“Jesus Christ, Mikeyway,” Ray’s cock twitched at the thought. “That’s cheating. You know I love that part.”

“Yeah, well, shouldn’t have slept so long,” Mikey straddled Ray’s hips and eased down onto Ray’s hard cock, hands gripping the headboard as Ray’s hands found their way to Mikey’s hips. Bus call could be a million hours away as far as he was concerned. There were more pressing matters.

“What’s sleep got to do with anything?” Ray asked and couldn’t have told you why. Not that he should be expected to have any kind of actual thought when balls deep into the perfect, hot, tightness of Mikey’s ass. Not with the way that Mikey sighed as he sank down.

“Ray Toro, shut the fuck up,” Mikey smirked down at Ray and started working himself into a rhythm, abs clenching, pretty cock curved up and leaking, bouncing in time.

“No way,” Ray breathed, “Look so hot riding my cock, like you were made for it.”

“Fuck,” Mikey moaned. “Told you. Shut. Up. The fuck is _wrong_ with all of you, anyway, mouthy bastards, ohgod.” Mikey rolled his eyes, but Ray was pretty sure it was because Mikey had found a good angle.

“That’s it,” Ray encouraged. He started stroking Mikey’s cock, smearing precome, jacking slow, grip firm, getting a soft noise from Mikey. “Jesus, Mikey, yeah, want to hear you.”

“Cheater,” Mikey grunted and shifted, ass clenching.

Ray moaned. “C’mon, Mikey. Shit. C’mon.”

Mikey shot all over his hand, causing his thrusts to stutter, but he kept going, relentless. Ray thrust up, meeting him and finally came with a shout. He lay there boneless while Mikey cleaned them up haphazardly and snuggled back in.

“So,” Mikey said after a few minutes, leg draped over Ray’s.

“What?” Ray asked, eyeing the clock. They had a hour before they had to be anywhere. It was plenty of time for either round two or the finding of coffee. He should probably find pants, though, because coffee would be really nice, and besides, they didn’t really have time for how thorough Ray wanted to be. One of these days, he was just gonna pin Mikey down and go over every square inch of skin with his mouth. Lips and teeth and tongue, and he’d revisit every spot he’d ever found that made Mikey squirm, find new ones and exploit them. For hours.

“Frank may or may not have some plans,” Mikey hedged, interrupting Ray’s reverie.

“Don’t be so cryptic,” Ray chided, sitting up. “What’s Frank got in mind?”

“Um. Gangbanging my brother,” Mikey chirped, smirking when Ray started laughing.

“Oh fuck,” Ray stopped laughing as Mikey lifted an eyebrow. “Shit. You’re serious.”

“Yep,” Mikey confirmed. “Even Pedicone’s in on it.”

“Shit,” Ray said a little awed.

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed.

“Shit,” Ray said again. He hadn’t even had coffee yet. There ought to be some sort of rule about orgy planning and coffee.

“Yeah,” Mikey did that thing where sounded like he was laughing while still being amazingly monotone.

“So, coffee?” Ray suggested, standing and looking for pants. “I’m assuming that shit’s not gonna happen right now?”

“Frank hasn’t managed to tell me the date. He seems to still be in the initial plotting stages.” Mikey shrugged, pulling back on underwear and shirt.

Ray nodded. “So he’s only mentioned it in passing to Gerard and not actually asked, I’m guessing? ” He then promptly tripped over air on the way to find pants, because really.

“Yeah,” Mikey was totally making fun of him now.

Ray tried his best to frown at Mikey but ended up smiling. Gangbang Gerard. He couldn’t wait to call Christa and talk this shit over with her. A reasonable person, who didn’t go around making these sorts of plans. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t, not immediately, anyway. She’d laugh and ask him about the summer - what he wanted to do after Vegas, or for his birthday. _Then_ she’d offer gangbang advice. Because his wife was amazing. Ray looked back at Mikey. His bass player was amazing, too.

“So lucky,” Ray said contentedly, buttoning up his jeans. Mikey threw a shirt at his head and said, “I’m lucky, you’re lucky...”

“The banister’s lucky,” they concluded in unison.

 ****

[Women’s Wisdom]

“Where do you get off, Frank Iero?” Jamia asked without preamble. It almost sounded like he was in deep shit. Or she was making fun of him. Or both. Kinda sounded like both. He didn’t recall anything specific that would have pissed her off. They even talked earlier after the show. But it was really early. Like 5 am early, and he’d only been asleep an hour. He wasn’t quite awake. He wasn’t even sure he’d been asleep.

“That varies,” Frank snarked before he could stop himself. Really, he usually had more self-preservation than this. He slapped his forehead.

She laughed. _Oh, thank God._ He exhaled and rubbed his eyes. He’d been pretty sure he’d read her right.

“Well yeah,” Jamia said, still giggling, “but what’s this I hear about a gangbang and why do I have to hear about it from Mike Pedicone?”

“Oops?” Frank offered and then a little awed. “Shit, Pedicone really does talk to you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Jamia chided. “Apparently a certain ‘little shit’ traumatized him a little bit with the idea of a gangbang that said ‘little shit’ hadn’t even talked to his wife about yet. Not to mention the European leg of the tour where the moaning got too much for him to ignore.”

“I’m still in the planning stages,” Frank defended. “And I guess we’re all a little loud.”

“And Gerard hasn’t quite said yes yet,” Jamia figured.

“He said yes,” Frank objected.

“Followed by an immediate no,” Jamia guessed.

“Well,” Frank waffled.

“Frankie, you can’t actually spring a gangbang on him,” Jamia said. He could hear her bemused smile. “Especially if it’s some sort of sexed-out idea you had.”

“Well, no. But it’s an awesome idea, right?” Frank focused on the positive.

“Of course it is honey, but you better not be teasing about this,” Jamia warned.

“But he likes being teased. You know he loves that shit,” Frank countered.

“Babe, all joking aside and I do know what a kinky fuck Gerard is,” Jamia reminded, “but you really need to make sure he’s okay with this. Surprise gangbangs are not okay. It’s, like, a rule.”

“Well yeah,” Frank agreed. “Of course.”

“And yes, that shit will be totally hot, you filthy fucker,” Jamia was back to giggling.

“God, why are you even awake to give me such a hard time?” Frank asked. “Do my girls have you up this early?”

“Naturally. And Pedicone called me earlier,” Jamia explained. “Apparently he didn’t realize you were serious. And Ray talked to Christa about it after Mikey told him. So Christa facebooked me.”

“At this point I’m surprised Wentz hasn’t called me,” Frank admitted and snuggled more into his blanket.

“Oh, he knows,” Jamia chirped. “I’m sure. Mikey does talk. Or text, anyway.”

“Yeah he does,” Frank giggled, his sleepy brain focusing on the talking part of the equation. God, when Mikey talked. Mikey needed to talk to Frank more often. There might have been a few seconds’ silence on the line.

“Thanks for flashing back to that sex you had a week ago, babe,” Jamia chided, somehow psychic, but he could hear her fond smile.

“That was some hot shit though,” Frank said. “Hot. Shit. Did I mention it was hot? Hot like burning.”

“Aaannd, we’re back to you being a sexual deviant,” Jamia clucked. “The point of our whole phone call.”

“And many others,” Frank said sagely.

“Dork,” Jamia observed.

“I love you too,” Frank replied.

“Love you, babe,” Jamia agreed, chuckling deep in her throat. “You need to straighten this shit out. It would have probably already been done if you had called me first.”

“You were right about the orgy,” Frank conceded, marveling at how lucky he got when she picked him. Stupidly lucky. “You are amazing.”

Jamia giggled, continuing on her mindreading streak. “I picked you for a reason. You know that. Several reasons.”

“Mmmm.” Frank let himself slip into the comforting space left by her voice. Some nights he just listened to her breathe for minutes on end. But it was late. “Get some sleep, ” Frank urged.

“Talk to Gerard about this,” Jamia said. “Seriously, babe.”

“Okay. You’re right,” Frank promised. She was right. She usually was. Maybe he could get Ray to do the dirty work. Maybe. Or at least see what Ray thought about it. Or something.

“Babe, I can hear you trying to think your way out of this,” Jamia observed. “Now, go to sleep.”

Frank giggled. “Only a little.”

“Sleep, now. While the babies are asleep.” Jamia said, sounding like she was close to drifting off.

He fell asleep with the cell phone plastered to his face, barely managing to end the call.

 

 ****

[Canada’s Really Big]

“...still hot. The end!” Gerard finished reciting one of the five children’s books he knew by heart now, and listened to the murmur of Lynz tucking Bandit in and closing the door.

“Sooo, did you do what I asked?” Lyn Z asked, voice low and sultry, and wow, that was a 180 from what he’d just been doing.

“Yeah?” Gerard coughed, rolling over in his bunk and adjusting his pants a little. It wasn’t a total lie. He had made sleeping arrangements with Ray. He just hadn’t made _all_ the arrangements.

“Good boy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Love you!”

“Love you,” Gerard echoed, a little dazed. He needed to talk to Ray, like, right now. He stuck his head out past the curtain. Mikey was unconscious in his bunk. He looked at the lounge. Frank was reading, still a little hyped from the show. That meant Ray was in the back, poking at scratch tracks. Great. Gerard got to interrupt him _and_ ask awkward questions. With a boner. Gerard tried to think of unpleasant things for a while, then gave up and opened the door to the miniature recording studio. Ray looked up, all hair and headphones and the glazed expression he always got when he’d listened to the same part of a song eighty-seven times, and still wanted to fix something.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Gerard asked, trying not to sound weird. Weak. Lame. Like an incredibly fucked-up sexual deviant about to ask a favor. Gerard dug his fingertips into the doorframe and hung away from it in an effort to do something with his hands.

“Fine...” Ray trailed off expectantly. As he probably should, Gerard realized, because nobody had interrupted him in the studio in, like, a year. And now Gerard was doing it. The floor could open up and swallow him any minute now.

“So, I was just talking to Lyn Z. On the phone.” Gerard clarified needlessly, then hesitated.

“Okay, come in and shut the door already, what the fuck is up with you tonight?” Ray pulled off his headphones, and saved whatever he’d been working on. Gerard shuffled forward, closing the door behind him obediently. He pulled up a stool that Mikey liked to perch on whenever he was figuring out bass lines.

“So, y’know there’s a hotel night tomorrow, and we’re rooming together?” Gerard frowned, trying to work out phrasing in his head.

“Yeah...” Ray tugged on the hem of Gerard’s shirt until Gerard leaned on him a little, and they both relaxed. Okay, maybe Ray was already relaxed. But Gerard felt better.

“And y’know Lyn Z.”

“Your wife, yes, I’m familiar with this person,” Ray said dryly, running a hand through Gerard’s hair.

“She wanted me to... call her, tomorrow.” Gerard chewed on a fingernail.

Ray blinked. “You call her basically every night. And Bandit. We _all_ have Green Eggs and Ham memorized now.”

“Yeah. I mean, no, not like that. She wanted me to call her. While. While the two of us. Damnit.” Gerard wanted to die.

“Oh.” Ray’s fingers scratched Gerard’s scalp pleasantly. “Um. Okay? I’m pretty sure all parties concerned would be fine with that.”

“Really?” Gerard felt like he had every right to be surprised, but Ray just tugged on Gerard’s hair, chuckling.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it might be a little weird? But, uh, c’mon, can’t exactly top the list for weird potential here.” Ray gestured in the general direction of the entire bus.

“That’s for sure,” Gerard muttered, sparing a thought for Frankie and his plans.

“So, ‘zat it?” Ray asked, disentangling himself from his headphones and making a few clicks with the mouse before looking at Gerard.

“Is. Is that it. Yes, a phone threesome with my wife is all I’ve got to ask you about at the moment, thanks!” Gerard only flapped his arms a little, laughing incredulously by the time he reached the end of his sentence.

Ray grinned and shrugged. “Hey, I’ve been trying to figure out what’s out of sync on this track for like forty-five minutes, you wondering if we can have sex is an easy one.”

Gerard wasn’t aware he’d dropped his jaw until Ray’s index finger picked it up again. He obediently closed his mouth and tilted his head, collecting the kiss Ray seemed to think was the natural conclusion to this conversation, and shortly found himself outside the door, having agreed that he would get some sleep. Gerard looked around, confused. How did Ray even _do_ that?

He slept like he was told, deep and easy, woke up at the border, slogged through a day of press, watched James convince Ray to eat poutine, and finally, finally, accepted his keycard with a grateful hand.

Gerard slogged up the stairs, prodded at the door, swiping his card the wrong direction and cursing when he figured it out. Eventually, the door made a smug beep and let him in. He opened the door to see Ray, sprawled in front of the TV. Gerard dropped his shoulder bag and waved, ducking in the bathroom to finally take a piss and wash his face. The soothing sounds of Ghostbusters cut out abruptly from the room, replaced by Ray’s voice.

“How was your last interview?”

“Informative. Did you know Canada is bigger than Australia?” Gerard answered, faintly muted by the washcloth over his face.

“Well, I kind of figured. Australia’s, like, an island.” Gerard could hear Ray shrug.

“It’s a continent! There’s this song...” Gerard left the bathroom, flicking off the light. Ray was lying on the bed. Barefoot in a t-shirt and jeans, his hands laced together behind his head. He looked comfortable. He looked gorgeous. He looked... expectant.

“This song?” Ray prompted.

“Oh, right. ‘Canada’s Really Big.’” Gerard remembered, taking off his shirt.

“Descriptive,” Ray mused, sitting up on the bed to unbuckle Gerard’s belt.

“Yep,” Gerard agreed, a wry twist to his lips. “The whole song is very descriptive. Okay, I don’t think he sang the whole thing, but I definitely heard more than one verse.” He tried to sound as casual as he could, but it wasn’t easy with Ray’s thumb ghosting under his waistband, stroking the skin there lazily.

“Oh, yeah?” Ray unbuttoned Gerard’s pants and let his fingers trail lower, but not low enough. Gerard gasped and tried not to rub against Ray’s fingers or whine. He mostly succeeded. “How’s the rest of it go?”

“Mountains?” Gerard tried. Ray’s fingers dipped lower, brushing the head of Gerard’s rapidly-hardening cock. “Mmh. Something about mountains being pointy.”

Ray looked up, thumb circling maddeningly. “You’re kidding?”

Gerard gasped, bucking into Ray’s hand a little. “No!” He protested more vehemently than he’d meant to, strangely caught off-guard by the idea. Or Ray’s fingers. “Um. No. The mountains are pointy and the other parts are flat or kinda bumpy.”

Ray laughed, “Well, that kind of covers the options?” He ducked his head, pressing his cheek into the seam of Gerard’s jeans.

“Christ,” Gerard said, and his voice only squeaked a little. He pulled on Ray’s t-shirt, fingers scrabbling, because suddenly it was very important that they both get naked, now. Ray held on to Gerard’s hip, nudged against the coarse cloth with his jaw, and took his time. Gerard whimpered softly. Ray was practically licking his jeans, for fuck’s sake. That was not okay. There were other, more important things Ray could be licking. Gerard realized that was kind of the point, but he was going to _die_ , here.

Approximately three years later, Ray lifted his head to look at Gerard. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Gerard wanted to say ‘yeah, you fucking should be, let’s get naked already,’ but all that came out was a little frustrated noise. Ray continued, “...you were saying?”

“What?” Gerard spluttered.

“About the song.” Ray was looking expectant again.

“I... I wasn’t!” Gerard protested, before setting his jaw stubbornly. Ray looked up and gave Gerard a look that was spine-melting. Challenging, confident, dangerous.

“You don’t remember anything else?” Ray cajoled, and slowly pulled Gerard’s zipper down all the way.

Shit. This was a game, and Gerard abruptly realized he didn’t want to lose this easily. He clenched his fingers in the air above Ray’s shoulders, trying to remember anything with Ray’s hand warm over his y-fronts.

“Um. Canada’s the second largest country. Fuck. Ray. Second to Russia.” Finally, fingers tightened around Gerard’s cock, even if it was impeded by cotton.

“Mmm-hmm?” Ray slid the waistband of Gerard’s briefs down, just enough to expose the head of Gerard’s cock. Gerard sighed with relief, and let his hands fall back on Ray’s shoulders.

But Ray just looked. He stared at Gerard’s leaking, aching dick until Gerard was pretty sure he could _feel_ Ray looking.

Gerard tried to remember how to breathe.

“I said,” said Ray with raised eyebrows and a grin, “‘mm-hmm?’”

“What, _no_ , hell.” Gerard tried to explain with those three words that this was a bad game and he was not playing and what the fuck was wrong with Ray anyway. It apparently didn’t work, because Ray just sat there. Looking. Gerard sighed. “France. France is really large.”

Ray ducked his head forward and licked, once, catching the leaked drop of precome on his tongue. He sat back, licking his lips. “No, it’s not.”

“Shit. Not in comparison to Canada, I think? Is the point? Or something? C’mon, Ray, fuck, please.” Gerard tugged on Ray’s t-shirt again, impatiently.

“Please what?” Ray licked again, far too quickly, and did Gerard mention he was dying here?

“Can we get naked?” Gerard gasped, and it was Ray’s fault that he was strung out so hard that he sounded like Frank, for fuck’s sake.

Ray looked up, curled one index finger into the waistband of Gerard’s underwear, and pulled it back up, covering him again, and then lay back down on the bed, stretching, all unconcerned and relentlessly evil. “Shouldn’t you call Lyn Z and ask her that?”

“I,” Gerard gaped at him for a second. He dug his phone out of his pocket, tapping it a few times until the sultry, gorgeous voice of his wife rang out on speakerphone.

“Hey, boys.” She sounded amused, breathy, turned-on, and if Gerard hadn’t already been hard enough to pound nails, he would be now.

“Hey,” he smiled back, and put the phone on the nightstand.

“Hi, Lyn Z,” Ray replied, still looking comfy and smug and evil, “Gerard wants to know if we can get naked.”

“He’s not already?” She had the decency to sound confused. Or, okay, maybe she was teasing, too. Maybe Gerard had a type, and it was teasing assholes. He wasn’t sure.

“His shirt’s off,” Ray mused, then seemed to remember something. “Ask him about --”

“Do _not_ ask me about Canada,” Gerard interrupted peevishly, and groaned with self-pity, realizing what was coming.

“What about Canada?” Lyn Z sounded pleased. No, now Gerard was sure. He had a type. Damnit.

“It is bigger than France and smaller than Russia, okay? I hate you both, and I’m taking my pants off now.” Gerard called back.

“No, you’re not.” Her tone was light, and Gerard groaned again, cursing under his breath.

“I’m not.” Gerard had meant it to come out a question, but it didn’t, and he just waited with his thumbs tucked under the material at his hips.

“Ray, you’ll help him with that, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Ray said, suddenly the picture of helpfulness, sitting up while Gerard toed off his shoes and socks. Ray reached over to tug down Gerard’s jeans and underwear again, not stopping this time. Gerard glanced down, lifting his left leg and then his right. He caught Ray’s eyes, and they were smiling wickedly to match his mouth. “There we go,” he said towards the nightstand, somehow not breaking eye contact.

“Excellent. And Gee, you get Ray, now.”

“O-” --kay, Gerard was just about to say, when Lindsey interrupted.

“--Don’t,” Lyn Z paused, making sure she wasn’t missing anything, like Gerard talking over her. He kept his mouth shut. “...don’t use your hands.”

Gerard closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to shiver. When he opened them, Ray was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, still smiling. Gerard bit his lip and knelt on the floor, his hands falling to his thighs. He nosed up between Ray’s legs, feeling suddenly a little shy, and hid his face in the warm t-shirt before finding the hem of it. He wrapped his lips around the edge to draw it away from Ray’s skin, and sunk his teeth into the cotton.

Gerard pressed the heels of his hands into his legs for leverage, and stood slowly, pulling up the mouthful of fabric, hoping Ray would lift his arms. He did, shrugging a little to help. Gerard stood all the way up, leaning back and tugging until he could spit the shirt on the floor. He took a moment to admire Ray’s shoulders, the cords of muscle running under the skin, then let his gaze slip to the jeans he was wearing. Of course they’d have a button top closure instead of a snap. He looked back up at Ray’s face.

“Could you... stand?” Gerard bit his lip, hoping this wasn’t cheating. Ray nodded and stood, and Gerard sank back down to his knees. It took a second, but he found the denim around the button with his teeth and pulled to the left and down, and that was easier than Gerard had thought it would be. He swallowed, looking at Ray’s zipper. He looked up to catch Ray’s eyes, caught the pull between his top teeth and tongue, made sure it looked good as he drew it down. If the hot pressure against his jawbone was any indication, it did.

“Ray?” Lyn Z’s voice.

“I’d say he’s halfway done,” Ray mused, watching Gerard tug down his jeans the rest of the way. They dropped at Ray’s ankles. “Make that two thirds,” he amended, a smile in his voice. He ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair. Gerard nuzzled against Ray’s boxers, nosed up the front of them, plucked delicately at the waistband with his teeth. He shook his head gently, sliding down, pretty sure Ray’s eyes were on his ass as he pulled once more and Ray was, for all intents and purposes, naked. “Well done,” Ray grinned, and smoothed Gerard’s hair.

“He a good boy for you, Ray?”

Ray cocked an eyebrow at Gerard. _I could get you in trouble_ , he seemed to smirk, stepping out of his discarded pants and shorts. Gerard just dipped his head, fighting a losing battle against a blush.

“Very good,” Ray confirmed, cupping Gerard’s jaw so he had to look up again. It gave Gerard a little thrill, twisting low in his belly. Ray was beautiful, standing above him, strong and looking at Gerard like Gerard was the best thing to have in front of him, a gift he got to hold in his fingers.

Linds laughed. “He’s on his knees, huh.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ray, and the words sounded deep, satisfied, predatory. Gerard shivered a little.

“Gee? Tell Ray what you want, baby. Let me hear you.”

Gerard bit his lip, nuzzling against Ray’s palm. “I wanna taste you,” he said, maybe a bit too softly.

“What was that? And don’t forget to say please, I trained you better than that.” A soft gasp followed Lyn Z’s words.

Gerard felt a swell of pride, and relief. _My wife is totally getting off on this. I found somebody as freaky as me. And an entire band of freaks. Shit. So fucking lucky._ Out loud, he said, “I want to taste you. Wanna suck your cock, want your hand in my hair, want you to fuck my face and come down my throat. Please.” He added, then closed his eyes, and said a little more softly, “Please.”

“Damn,” Ray breathed.

“Ray, you, ah, you think you can manage?” Lyn Z’s voice hitched a little.

“I think I’ll... muddle through, or something.” Ray sounded distracted too, and rubbed Gerard’s cheek with his thumb. Ray palmed his cock with his other hand, and Gerard couldn’t stop himself from looking, from parting his lips.

“Hands behind your back, baby,” Linds added.

“Yes,” Gerard said, kneeling up a little taller, drawing his shoulders back to clasp his hands as directed. He wasn’t sure if he was agreeing, or signalling his compliance, or just trying to find a word for how on-board he was with everything in general.

And he was. There weren’t enough words beyond ‘yes’ for how good it was to have Ray’s hand moving from his cheek to his jaw to the nape of his neck, up the back of his head and down, and gathering Gerard’s hair into his fist. Ray firmed up his grip, and Gerard’s eyes closed in pleasure. Gerard could feel the strands of hair tugging on his scalp, each adding up to a mild sting, but mostly there was the sensation of being on the shortest leash, subject to the smallest twitch of Ray’s fingers. It was intoxicating.

Gerard opened his mouth to breathe Ray in, and opened his eyes with surprise at the velvety warmth against his lower lip. Ray held his cock in his other hand, sticky at the tip and just barely resting against Gerard’s mouth. Gerard couldn’t move, didn’t try to strain against Ray’s hand in his hair, just opened his mouth wider and waited, looking up at Ray.

Ray swore softly and gave Gerard what he wanted, sliding slow and hot into his mouth. Gerard couldn’t help letting out a happy little high-pitched sound, and let Ray slide along his tongue until he was almost halfway in before Gerard closed his mouth and started to suck.

Ray let out a gratifyingly low groan, and his cock twitched inside Gerard’s mouth, and a soursweet leak of precome washed over his tongue; Gerard moaned in return. There was something about cocksucking that short-circuited his brain in the best way.

A sweet sound came from the phone on the nightstand, and it was his awesome fucking wife with her hands down her pants because she was telling Ray how to fuck Gerard’s face, and Gerard was pretty sure if there’d been anything, _anything_ for him to rub up against, he’d be coming all over the hotel carpet. If it didn’t mean that Linds would tell Ray that if Gerard made a mess, he had to clean it up with his tongue, because that had happened before and it was stupidly hot. But Lyn Z was telling Ray something else, and Gerard kept his hands clenched behind his back and his mouth open, and Ray followed Lyn Z’s advice and grabbed his hair with both hands and didn’t go slowly and didn’t go gently and it was perfect. Gerard couldn’t quite get enough air between Ray’s thrusts and that somehow made it even better, and he was pretty sure that soft noise was Lyn Z coming, and Gerard heard himself whimper, actually whimper, and then Ray was pushing Gerard’s nose into his crotch and coming with a deeply satisfied grunt.

For a while, the only noise was three people breathing heavily as Ray pulled out and let go, using his hands to brace himself on Gerard’s shoulders instead. Gerard bit his lip, smiling, and looked up at Ray, his hair hanging down, his features slack with contentment. After a few breaths, Ray stepped back and offered his hand. Gerard took it, standing a little awkwardly, shaking out his knees.

All of a sudden, Ray was behind him, breath hot on Gerard’s neck, hand tight around his cock.

“So good,” Ray praised, “so good for me. So good for us.” He raised his voice a little. “Isn’t he good, Lyn Z?”

“Of course,” Linds sighed, her voice low and sweet like it always was when she’d come hard enough to see stars. “You gonna come for us, pet?”

“Close,” he panted. And he was, he was close five minutes ago, and a little surprised he’d lasted more than a few seconds of Ray’s hand on his dick. Gerard leaned back against Ray, drowning in the feel of him, strong and perfect at his back, an arm secure around Gerard’s chest, his fingers relentless and getting stickier by the moment. He lifted his hand for Gerard to lick, and Gerard complied, tasting himself, slicking up Ray’s fingers and moaning loudly when Ray started to jerk him off again.

“Ray, Linds, please..”

“Yes,” they answered, almost in unison, and Ray held him tightly, didn’t let him fall, let him tense up and writhe on his tiptoes and come, painting Ray’s fingers and crying out loudly enough that he was a little embarrassed a second later, when it seemed like it was still ringing in his ears. Or maybe that was his own heartbeat.

“Good boy. I’ll leave you two to it. Love you,” Linds signed off, sighing with satisfaction. She was going to take a shower and eat a bowl of cereal and fall asleep without brushing her teeth, Gerard just knew. He loved knowing things like that.

Ray loosened his grip on Gerard a little. “You good?”

Gerard breathed in shakily and steadied his feet. “Oh yeah.” He turned and faceplanted on the bed, groaning happily. Ray laughed and went to wash his hands and get some water.

Gerard sat up and gratefully took the proffered glass, sipping. Then he looked up at Ray, remembering back before the phone call. “Asshole,” he accused.

“Hey, if I’d have known you responded so well to interrogation techniques, I’d have figured out a lot of shit a long time ago.” Ray laughed.

 

 ****

[Methods of Procrastination]

“Hi Ray,” Frank chirped, handing him over a coffee.

Ray stared at the cup like the very nature of it offended him. He lifted an eyebrow and looked at Frank with complete and total suspicion.

“I didn’t spit in it or anything,” Frank explained, taking a sip of his own coffee, trying not to be intimidated by the eyebrow, trying not to even blink. Blinking would be weakness, or something. He was pretty sure. “If you want, you can trade with me. And yes, I do remember that we are, in fact, not in grade school. Can’t a guy just give another guy a coffee?”

“No,” Ray answered, sighing. “A guy apparently can’t give another guy a coffee because coffee, at least in my recent experience, means someone has ulterior motives. And you, my dear, filthy, little friend, can’t say with any degree of integrity that you don’t have something else going on.”

“I’m quite clean, I’ll have you know,” Frank objected, deflecting.

“Don’t even get me started on the showers,” Ray held up a hand.

Frank shut his mouth and took another sip of coffee and let Ray carry on on his verbal tirade.

“Because you are a filthy shit,” Ray continued, like he’d really been waiting for an opportunity to just talk. “With or without your showers. Or because of your showers. Or just being you. And while I agree with Jamia that it’s really a lot of your charm--”

“You talk to Jamia too?” Frank blinked. Everyone, apparently, talked to Jamia when Frank was being a sexual deviant, which must mean that they all talked to her all the time. He just didn’t know what to do with that information, so he tucked it away and faced Ray’s scowl at being interrupted.

“Frankie,” Ray scowled.

“Shutting up,” Frank muttered, making a motion of zipping his lips.

“While you being an impossible, flirty motherfucker is, well, more than a little charming,” Ray continued, taking a sip of his coffee and smiling a little. “It does not, in fact, give me any reason to buffer and/or aid in any setup of any gangbang plans between Gerard and yourself.”

Frank deflated and Ray patted him on the shoulder, pulling Frank in for a half hug. “I would like to say, for the record, that shit’s gonna be hot and you should want to help me talk Gerard into it.”

“I didn’t say that it wouldn’t be hot,” Ray conceded. “And I will totally show up. But I’m not... delivering the invitation.”

“You’re just saying that Jamia promised you something better if I handle it myself,” Frank pouted. His wife was amazing. And evil. She was amazing and evil. He’d totally call her, but she’d just lecture him again about growing a pair.

Ray had the nerve to look a little sheepish and then ruffled Frank’s hair. “Just go talk to Gerard,” Ray urged and gave Frank a little nudge in the direction that Gerard had gone. “And thanks for the coffee.”

“Sure,” Frank said and started off in the opposite direction. “Right.”

“Frank,” Ray warned. “Gerard isn’t that way.”

“No, but Mikey is,” Frank countered and Ray rolled his eyes. “Not a word about having balls, Toro, or I never lick yours again.”

Ray had the decency to blush just a little and Frank grinned to himself. “I’m gonna go check the acoustics here,” Ray said, tilting his head towards the stage.

Frank found Mikey plucking absently at his bass in the green room, eyes closed, looking cool.

“Hi--” Frank started.

“No,” Mikey said, not even opening his eyes and heading off Frank’s argument right at the pass and continued playing. Frank thought the song might be one of Morrissey’s. Mikey liked to play it during soundcheck. He couldn’t be sure, though.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Frank pouted.

“Yes I do,” Mikey opened his eyes and smirked at Frank. “Pete reminded me that you’re a sexual deviant. And Ray sent me a text.”

“Has Pete been talking to Jamia too?” Frank asked despite himself. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, fighting a smile. He felt a little proud. His wife was awesome and possibly still evil.

Mikey just kept smirking at Frank and shrugged. Yep. Pete definitely called her. Mikey’s eyebrows pulled down at Frank’s smug grin.

“Stop judging me with your eyebrows,” Frank grumbled. Frank really was frowning now without amusement. No one likes to be stonewalled by amused stoicism.

The corner of Mikey’s mouth pulled a frown and his left brow eased up.

“Now you’re just mocking me,” Frank sighed and threw himself down onto the couch beside Mikey, being careful of his guitar. He tucked into Mikey’s side and poked him.

“Woe is you,” Mikey observed, batting at Frank’s fingers and smiling.

“You have no idea, Mikeyway,” Frank made his best wallowing-in-misery face. Mikey just snickered at him.

“You little punk,” Frank squawked, sticking his tongue out.

“My answer is still no,” Mikey reminded.

“I haven’t even asked you the question yet,” Frank insisted.

“Still no,” Mikey said.

“How about this,” Frank proposed. “You can ask me something, maybe even _for_ something and then I can ask you the something in return?”

“Ask you for something?” Mikey quirked an eyebrow, catching on to Frank’s scheme.

“Yep,” Frank confirmed. Yes, he knew Mikey was just going to veto helping convince Gerard to go along with the gangbang. But, if Mikey was going to say no to such a worthy diplomatic endeavor, at least he could use his words and ask Frank for something to temporarily distract him. Like a reward, or incentive, or something. Besides, Frank was already half-hard from thinking about all these fantastic future plans. Mikey could throw a guy a bone here.

“Still gonna answer your question no,” Mikey warned.

“Even if I get you off?” Frank asked. The getting-off was going to happen, he’d decided. Was he not broadcasting clearly enough? Even Pete Wentz would pick up on the obviousness of his vibes. Honestly, it was a miracle Mikey hadn’t received a text to that effect.

“Yep,” Mikey confirmed. “Even then.” Then, almost coy, he asked, “What do you have in mind?”

“Are you seriously asking me? I was asking you.” Frank looked expectant. Because that was some hot shit before, that whole Mikey telling Frank what he wanted thing, and Frank wanted more.

“Well, you’re not getting diplomatic gangbang assistance from this. I figured you’d want to pick.” Mikey explained, carefully putting his bass away and peeking over at Frank.

“I am picking,” Frank explained. “I’m picking what you want. What do you want?” Frank looked at Mikey and placed his hand on Mikey’s thigh, squeezing gently, letting his thumb drift up to the zipper.

“And I’m picking that your hand needs to be closer?” Mikey sounded unsure for a second. Like maybe he was being tricked or something. Might have been that little brother mentality kicking in for a minute.

“You really shouldn’t answer a question with a question, Mikey,” Frank smirked, fingers fiddling with Mikey’s belt buckle. “Words, Mikey,” Frank leaned in and nuzzled at Mikey’s neck. “Use your words.”

“You should,” Mikey shifted as Frank palmed his dick through his jeans. “Y-you should jerk me off.”

“Yeah?” Frank pushed down a little harder. Mikey felt good under his palm. There was cloth in the way, sure, but hardness and heat underneath.

“And you should get my pants out of the way,” Mikey squirmed. “Like now.”

“Okay,” Frank beamed and made quick work of the button and zipper. He got his hand into Mikey’s briefs; both of them made an appreciative sound when his fingers wrapped around hot, sweat-damp skin. “Like that?” Frank slowly started to jerk, thumb teasing the slit, smiling as Mikey muffled a whine with his hand.

“Yes,” Mikey swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Shit. Harder, Frankie.”

“Like this?” Frank increased the pressure, fingers stroking from shaft to tip.

“And down,” Mikey gasped, hips bucking, “angle down.”

“Alright,” Frank did as he was told, mouthing Mikey’s neck so he could feel Mikey’s moans with his lips.

“Faster,” Mikey panted. “Close, Frank. Faster.”

Frank quickened his pace and circled the head of Mikey’s cock with the pad of his thumb. Mikey came undone, all held breaths and one long groan as he shot into Frank’s palm. “So hot, Mikeyway,” Frank praised, lifting his come-covered hand to lick.

Mikey whimpered when he saw what Frank’s tongue was doing. “Stop trying to kill me before 3 in the afternoon.”

“You like it,” Frank said smugly.

“C’mere,” Mikey grabbed at Frank’s sweater and pulled him in for a kiss. “You dirty little fucker.”

“So, wanna help me talk Gerard into a gangbang?” Frank chirped.

“Still no,” Mikey smirked.

“Well, then, I guess I could let you get me off,” Frank said, long-sufferingly.

“What!?” Gerard was frozen in the doorway. How had Frank let that escape his notice? Christ, Mikeyway was distracting. Judging by the hard-on Gerard was sporting, he’d probably been there a while. Shit. Also, hot. Frank’s brain derailed for a minute before coming back online.

“What?” Frank asked faux-innocently.

“You were serious!” Gerard was all flaily hands and hair-ruffling, and didn’t even notice Mikey slip out of the room like some kind of deserter.

 _Coward. Overly smart little sexy, tasty...damnit._ Frank sighed. “Of course,” he said out loud, trying his best to look reasonable while adjusting his pants. He had a feeling that his depleted blood supply would not be helping for this conversation.

“Didn’t we make a rule?” Gerard asked. “I recall there being a rule.”

“You made a rule that you’d said I’d already probably broken,” Frank reminded, standing and slowly moving into Gerard’s space.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Gerard insisted, but he was fighting a smile or a scowl.

“Part of my charm,” Frank was smiling. “And before you ask, no, I wasn’t going to actually spring a gangbang on you.” Frank put his hands on Gerard’s face, fingers tugging his hair a little.

“You impossible little shit,” Gerard muttered. “Jamia would have totally taken your balls, though.”

“Well yeah, she’s awesome like that,” Frank agreed.

“It’s good that you ended up with someone with some standards,” Gerard rolled his eyes.

“I know! I still can’t believe she picked me either,” Frank grinned. “But you’re okay with it, right?” Frank felt hesitant all at once, standing there chewing on his lip and his hands cradling Gerard’s face. “It’s your call. We’d tie you up and everything? Unless you aren’t cool with it. And maybe you should forget I even asked.”

Frank was rambling. He couldn’t help it. He might have botched his charisma roll before this conversation actually started happening.

“Frank,” Gerard said, but Frank just keep going.

“I mean. Maybe you don’t want to be tied up,” Frank continued. “But. You are more than a little bit of a kinky fuck. But gangbang and yeah. It’s probably too much and I just. Man. Shit.”

“Frankie,” Gerard was smiling at him. He looked fond as hell and flushed, eyes darkening.

“What?” Frank asked, feeling hope spark in his chest. Hope for a gangbang. Christ, he was ridiculous. This was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” Gerard answered. “I’d be up for a,” he shifted, squirming a little, “gangbang. Jesus.”

Frank beamed at him like Christmas had come early. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Frankie, shit,” Gerard rolled his eyes, still smiling.

Frank kissed him, warm and deep, licking into his mouth. “Dude, shit’s gonna be epic.”

“You say that every time.” Gerard chided, grinning.

“But I’m always right,” Frank insisted and then, more seriously, “Do you think we could mutually jerk each other off now in celebration or some shit. ‘Cause I’m dying here. Your brother left us with blue balls. Seriously.”

Gerard laughed and Frank joined in with a giggle, taking a moment to realize that he had the kind of life where he got blueballed by hot musical genius brothers mid-gangbang-planning.

“Well, he didn’t, actually,” Gerard explained. “He’s been quietly trying not to laugh at you just outside of the door.”

“Seriously?” Frank asked, looking around Gerard. “How do I miss you sneaky Ways?”

“You aren’t the least bit ninja,” Mikey answered, smirking a little. He turned his attention to Gerard. “So if we have a gangbang and I come on your face, are you going to be pissy at me and say it’s trite and overdone?” Mikey asked.

“Or demeaning?” Frank added, without missing a beat. Gerard was slowly turning colors to match his hair.

He rubbed his eyes, obviously trying to draw attention away from the fact that his pants hadn’t stopped tenting out in the slightest. If anything, he’d gotten harder. Gerard noticed Frank looking and sighed. “I guess some things are cliches for a reason,” he admitted.

Frank giggled and Gerard joined in while Mikey smirked at them.

“Speaking of cocks,” Frank said, once they’d calmed back down.

“Niiiiice segue,” Gerard chided.

“Is it still my show?” Mikey asked.

“Fuck yes,” Frank nodded. “That shit’s hot.”

“You adorable pervert,” Gerard smiled.

“Says the guy who had a kinky phonesex threeway,” Frank chirped.

“You’ve talked to Jamia today?” Gerard asked.

“Nope, talked to Lyn Z,” Frank beamed. It had been an accident. He’d actually meant to call Jamia this morning, but it was a happy accident - he was pretty curious about the kinky shit that happened last night. Ray was just quietly busy and smug, and Gerard...

Gerard was back to blushing again.

“Thanks for making him flashback to last night’s sex,” Mikey sighed with a smirk tucked into the corner of his mouth.

“No problem,” Frank chirped.

“Guys,” Gerard whined.

“Shut up,” Frank said. “Maybe if you’re good, Mikey will let me blow you.”

“Mikey,” Gerard whined, while looking slightly hopeful. “Frankie’s being mean to me.”

“Stop whining and go lie on the couch,” Mikey ordered.

Gerard sulked over and dramatically tossed himself onto the couch, shedding his pants on his way, hardon tenting his impressively purple briefs. “What is it with people telling me what to do lately?” he grumbled amicably, shifting his hips and looking meaningfully from Mikey to Frank and back.

“Frank,” Mikey started. There was something in his tone, something on edge, brooking no argument. Frank could feel the anticipation down to his toes. “Go get on the couch between Gerard’s knees. And lose your pants.”

Mikey locked the door and watched Frank strip, ending up bare-assed naked, hard cock curving toward his navel. Frank wanted to lean down and rut, but this was Mikey’s show. He could wait. He would wait.

“Get Gerard’s cock out,” Mikey continued. Then, with a smirk that told Frank he was missing something, maybe about last night: “Don’t use your hands.”

Frank grinned devilishly down at Gerard and nosed at the waistband of his underwear.

“Frank,” Gerard squirmed, hips shifting, and started to reach for Frank’s head.

“Hands behind your head, Gee,” Mikey warned. Gerard whimpered and obliged, fingernails digging into forearms, teeth biting into his lower lip. He turned darkened eyes on Frank.

Frank stuck his tongue under the elastic of Gerard’s briefs and licked around the tip, causing Gerard to buck and moan. Gently shoving the waistband down with his chin, Frank looked up and asked, “Can I hold his hips down?”

“He’ll only like it,” Mikey said, then nodded, lips pursed. “Yeah. You should leave fingerprints on his hips. Now, suck his dick.”

Frank smoothed his hands down Gerard’s sides, neatly shoving his underwear out of the way and getting a good grip at the same time. He bracketed Gerard’s hipbones with his thumbs, slowly digging his fingertips in as he licked another long swipe down the underside of Gerard’s cock. Gee gasped, and Frank licked back up along the head of his cock, grinning when Gerard bucked against his hands and cursed. He started sucking, light and messy, mouthing the first couple of inches.

“Shit, Frankie,” Gerard moaned. “Shit.”

“That’s right,” Mikey encouraged. “Let him hear you, Gerard.”

Frank smiled and chose that moment to swallow Gerard down to the hilt. Gerard squeaked, surprised, followed by an amazed moan. Frank hollowed his cheeks and went to town, sucking happily.

Gerard babbled curses between moans. “Fuck, Mikey he’s so good at this. _Shit._ ”

“I know how good he is,” Mikey walked over, leaning over them, eyes dark. “He’s good because he likes it. He could probably get off just from the noises you make, or thinking about you sucking him off. Just from the thought of your mouth around his cock.”

It was Frank’s turn to whimper around Gerard’s dick. Mikey was an amazing, glorious asshole.

“But I’d bet he’d like if if I just reached around and jerked him while he goes down on you?” Mikey mused, hand close but not touching and Frank made a frustrated noise around Gerard’s dick and changed angles.

“Fuck,” Gerard moaned and babbled. “Mikey, fuck. Not gonna last much longer. He’s driving me _crazy_. Fucking... shit, touch him. Tell us we can come. _Please._ ”

At last, Mikey reached and slowly wrapped his fingers around the tip of Frank’s cock. Frank moaned around a mouthful of Gerard and forced himself wait, to not to hump Mikey’s fingers as he teasingly smeared the precome around the tip of Frank’s cock.

“Good? Do you want me to jerk you like you did me?” Mikey asked, not waiting for a response, fingers tightening perfectly. “Or do you want to fuck my hand?”

Frank chose option two with barely a thought, hips pumping into Mikey’s fist.

“Go ahead and get you both off, Frankie,” Mikey purred in his ear loud enough for Gerard to hear.

Gerard said Mikey’s name when he came, hushed, as Frank swallowed him down, giving fast little stuttered thrusts before pulling off of Gerard’s cock with a deep groan as he came in turn. It was like a punch in the gut except good, pleasure radiating from deep in his belly, up his spine, down to his toes.

His jaw hurt, there was a distinct pleasant burn between his shoulder blades and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and it was the best feeling.

“Mikey fuckin’ Way,” Frank admonished, collapsing in a heap half on Gerard.

“Yeah, that,” Gerard agreed, awkwardly patting Frankie’s head. “Get down here. Time for cuddles.”

“You two need to put on pants first,” Mikey suggested. “Pedicone was explicit about pants needing to be worn in public areas like green rooms.”

Gerard pouted. Frank giggled. Mikey smirked at them fondly, and went to unlock the door.

 

 ****

[Anticipation Is Maybe Too Much Foreplay]

Pedicone could safely say that, at this point, shit was getting ridiculous. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to survive this. Because Gerard was back up on his drum riser again for the third time tonight. Singing to him. And making those sex faces. Or were they just Gerard faces? Sexy Gerard faces.

That’d be enough to fuse anybody’s brain, but no. Little fucker didn’t stop. Shit, he was licking his hand again. And looking right at Mike. Was Gerard trying to make him miss a beat? Pedicone was considering taking his shirt off as a competing distraction at this rate.

He desperately looked over at Frank for help. Anything would do. _Hump Gerard’s leg_ , he tried to convey with his eyebrows. _Go lick Mikey or snuggle Ray and make him jealous. Fuckin’ something, man._

Frank just beamed beatifically at him like he knew exactly what Pedicone was asking him to do and didn’t give a shit. He looked like he thought this was some of the best entertainment ever.

Mike dared a look at Dewees and James just raised his eyebrows as if to say, “you brought this on yourself.”

Mike tried to make his eyebrows say, “but you should help me anyway. I’ll blow you.”

Dewees just rolled his eyes.

He decided his eyebrows should have offered French cuisine and Armagnac. And maybe _then_ a blowjob. He wasn’t sure how to say that in Eyebrow, but Mikey could probably offer a few suggestions.

Oh, thank fuck, Gerard had gotten down off the riser. Frankie really needed to set a date. Soon. Like when he was here and not back in Jersey with his girls. Really soon. If just so everyone could be less sexually frustrated. Even though the guys were still fucking like bunnies. He could still hear them. No one in this band knew the definition of quiet. Or even cared that sound, did, in fact, travel.

And maybe if the gangbang could happen, Gerard might stop laying on the stage, arching his back and touching himself. Like he was doing right now. Jesus. Christ.

He was seriously thinking about blowing Dewees regardless. It was on his mind now, because this was the sort of calm, meditative, vaguely filthy thought process that Gerard was always interrupting. And making filthier. And James was hot. Talented as fuck. And they’d bonded, even if it’d been mostly over food tales of woe, and video games, and music. So much music. So blowjobs, next logical step as far as Pedicone was concerned. (It could be that he’d been around Frank and Jamia too long.)

He shot a look at Frank, but Frank was just staring open-mouthed at Gerard. Gerard, who looked like was trying to suck off his microphone.

For fuck’s sake.

Yes. The gangbang needed to happen like yesterday. Or preferably, by the time they got to Houston. Actually, he should just call Jamia. She could straighten this shit out. That idea got him through the rest of the set.

After the show, he was about to call her, but Frank had just hung up with her and it sounded like the girls had just gone down for the night. He sent a quick text, changed his shirt, and ambled towards the fridge to grab a beer. The rest of the guys were passed out in the lounge, watching _Buckaroo Banzai_ again. Well, sort of watching. Mostly ignoring. Occasionally throwing shit. Frank and Ray had had a few, James was asleep, and the Brothers Way were in some kind of freaky fraternal giggle-reinforcement loop. That’s how it was. Some nights, they were wired, some nights everybody was dead tired. It depended on the day of the week, the crowd, and probably which way the wind was blowing. Mike popped the cap off his beer and sipped, ready to zone out on bad sci-fi.

Which he managed for possibly as long as ten minutes before an empty box of Count Chocula smacked into his head. He tossed it back at Frank. “Asshole,” he commented, without any heat to it.

“Why do you always assume I do these things?” Frankie clutched his chest, wringing his t-shirt in his fingers for maximum drama.

Mike raised an eyebrow in silence.

“I’ll have you know I’m pure and innocent. I spread sweetness and light!” Frank’s pointed finger was overruled by his halfway-to-laughing grin.

“Sez the guy who’s planning a gangbang for his boyfriend. And wants my _help_.” Pedicone let his head fall into his hand, expecting laughter or maybe another bout of cardboard to the face.

Instead, he got an amused, “He’s not my boyfriend,” in stereo, as Gerard and Frank said it at the same time on either side of him, laughing. Which made Mikey giggle. Which made Ray laugh. Pedicone laughed too, maybe at the absurdity of it all, but mostly at how weirdly good it made him feel.

“Oh-kaaay,” he allowed, looking at the two of them. “Your...?”

Frank just chuckled and waved his hands, somehow conjuring an effusive, utterly Italian shrug which seemed to translate as, _C’mon, who needs these pedestrian labels?_ or something. Mike tried to ignore the twinge of fondness that came from such a very Iero display, and turned to Gerard.

“My...” Gerard bit a thumbnail, thinking. “My guitarist,” he finished, like that made all the sense in the world.

Mike laughed. “Sure. You do that with all your guitarists?”

Gerard just giggled at Frank. Frank looked smug at Ray. Ray grinned at Mikey. And four guys in his band turned to look at him like he was all kinds of adorably stupid.

“Right. Can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” Pedicone was suddenly intensely interested in sipping his beer. With his eyes closed. But Frank pulled an arm around him, and Ray clapped him on the back, and they were all laughing again.

 ****

[The Logistics of Long-Distance Planning]

Frank had been completely worthless for the three days he’d been home. Well, not completely. He made hotel arrangements for Dallas because that was the earliest he could make the orgy happen, what with the European festivals and how he needed to be home. And see, he did get the shelving put up that Jamia wanted, and dared an adventure to that bulk store, and bought all the things on the list, including enough diapers to wait out a zombie apocalypse. And he’d gotten up for all the middle of the night feedings. All of them. Admittedly, half of them because he was already up, just watching the girls sleep.

He was just thinking about vacuuming the carpet in the hallway a second time when Jamia shoved him against the nearest wall, pinning him.

“Hi,” he grinned sheepishly.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, like she knew exactly what he was thinking about. Like she knew how much he felt like he was coming out of his skin. Like he wished there was more than one of him so he wouldn’t feel so split in two. He needed more hands and to maybe send Pedicone somewhere to buy some sort of restraints, rope or fluffy handcuffs. Pedicone could so handle that shit. He was the fucker to suggest Dallas. They both watched too much porn for the idea to not be perfect.

“How twitchy are you?” Jamia asked, rolling her eyes.

“Little bit,” he admitted and shifted so that maybe he could get a little friction because he loved it when she was rough, getting hard seconds after he hit the wall.

“Pervert,” she sighed, knowingly.

“I was going to remind you the babies were asleep,” Frank said hopefully. She could totally fuck his brains out again. He was always down for that. Or cuddling with some heavy petting, Frank wasn’t picky. Because it was _Jamia_. And there were boobs. Boobs were always a bonus.

Of course his cell phone started to ring. She laughed as he knocked his head against the wall.

“Gerard, I’m gonna call you every five minutes the next time you’re home,” Frank muttered, fumbling for the phone on the off chance that there was an actual emergency, knowing that if he didn’t answer and it was important, he’d never forgive himself.

“Yeah, Lynds is gonna love that,” Jamia was back to rolling her eyes at him fondly. She took a step back as he answered the phone and then took off her t-shirt.

“Frankie,” Gerard chirped through the phone.

“Gerard,” Frank greeted, staring appreciatively at Jamia, who was backing away and taking off her bra one hook at a time. Frank licked his lips and watched as she turned. He smiled at her smooth back and the sway of her hips as she walked to their bedroom tossing her bra behind her.

“Someone promised me a gangbang,” Gerard sing-songed, because he was an evil cockblocking little shit. Who Frank - and he knew it was ridiculous - missed, suddenly. And not just because of the impending gangbang.

“Jamia, Gerard’s being mean to me, tell him we’ll never tie him up again if he doesn’t stop,” Frank called, somewhat desperately. Because that was part of his problem. The whole not being able to be at least two places at once thing.

Gerard audibly swallowed and his voice was soft when he spoke, “Frank.” Oooh, that was a good sound. Frank couldn’t help but remember other times he’d heard Gerard say his name like that.

Of course the twins chose that moment to wake for their middle of the night feeding. “I got it,” he called towards the bedroom. Frank was back to banging his head against the wall, then making his way to the girls’ room. “I have several choice words for you of varying natures, but they’re gonna have to wait.”

“Sorry for waking the girls up, Frankie,” Gerard spoke, sounding earnestly contrite, followed by a scuffling on his end and Mikey coming on the line.

“I will distract him,” Mikey promised solemnly.

“Mikeyway, you are my hero,” Frank said sincerely.

“Kiss Jamia for me,” Mikey ended the call.

Frank tucked his cell away and picked up the first crying baby. Jamia appeared next to him over the other crib.

“Go to bed,” Frank tried to get her to reach the other girl over. “You can start without me.”

“And we’re back to you being a pervert,” Jamia chided, smiling. “It’ll go faster if we both do it. And this way I won’t cover everything with milk.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Frank mused lewdly, grinning as she smacked him on the back of the head. “I love you,” he leaned over and kissed her. “I missed you.” Another kiss. “And I’m glad I’m here.”

“I know,” Jamia looked fond, thoughtful.

“But you’ll be glad when the gangbang is over,” Frank said, and she nodded. “Me too.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re always glad when you’ve had another epic lay.”

He giggled. “Guilty as charged. Plus, planning this shit is a huge responsibility. I’m gonna make Mikey do the next one.”

Jamia looked up from nursing Cherry and raised an eyebrow, considering.

“Hey, Mikeyway is scarily good at taking charge,” Frank defended, thinking back.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “You’ve got a point.”

Frank wasn’t sure if she was thinking about the threesome he’d told her about, or other details she’d heard from Alicia, but he _was_ pretty sure that was hot. And awesome. His wife was awesome. And Lily was falling asleep in his arms. He was going to get some, and Jamia’s boobs were huge. Frank sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever it was that had his best interests at heart.

“Speaking of which...” Frank leaned over awkwardly to kiss her again, plenty of tongue and a little lip-bite. “...Mikey says hi.”

***  
 ****

On the Other End of the Line

Mikey tucked the phone into his pocket and bit his cheek, thinking. He pulled it back out, sent a quick text, pocketed it again.

“What’re you doing with my phone?” Gerard only sounded mildly concerned. Good.

Mikey cocked an eyebrow at a chair. “Sit.”

Gee sat, crossing his arms but still too amused at his phone call with Frank to look anything more than cutely petulant.

Mikey’s pocket vibrated. He pulled out the phone, accepted the call, and straddled Gee’s lap, slinging an arm over his shoulder for balance. “Hey,” he drawled into the phone. Gerard raised an eyebrow. “No, everything’s fine. Gee’s a little worked up. Yeah, woke up the girls. Hmm? Nah, his balls are probably safe, grabbed the phone before Jamia could. Mmm. Uh-huh.” Mikey shifted on Gerard’s lap, meeting his brother’s glare with an amused look.

“Mikey, who---”

Mikey gave Gerard a ‘duh’ look and continued his conversation, answering the question at the same time. “Ray--- yeah? A wah-wah pedal? I dunno. Yeah, the gangbang.” Mikey rolled his eyes, “Totally. No, I was calling because we weren’t sure whether to get rope or cuffs.”

Gerard got out half a squawk of indignation before Mikey covered his mouth firmly. He sidled forward until his legs were practically wrapped around the back of the chair, chest-to-chest with Gerard. He grinned and kissed the back of his hand, right over where Gee’s lips would be. Gerard’s eyes narrowed, and he took a slow breath through his nose, considering his next move.

“Oh. No, I didn’t think of that. I’ve never tied his wrists to his thighs before. There are cuffs for that?” Mikey gave every outward indication of being distracted by the conversation and not by Gerard’s tongue lapping maddeningly against his fingers. “Wouldn’t it inhibit positioning? No, I know.” Mikey moved his hand, catching the hinge of Gerard’s jaw with his thumb and awkwardly shoving his three middle fingers into Gerard’s mouth.

“Mrrf,” Gerard said, then bit. Not too hard - he was almost always good to Mikey’s fingers - but hard enough to make his point.

“And we’re gonna...” Mikey paused, frowning at Gerard, then wiggled his fingertips farther back so they’d tickle the roof of Gerard’s mouth, make him gag a little.

Gerard coughed and frowned. Mikey raised an eyebrow. Gerard started sucking.

“We’re gonna have some movement problems regardless of restraint choice, but it depends on... there’s the difference between a hogtie and traditional handcuffs to be considered.” Mikey groaned, at both what Gerard was doing to his fingers and what Ray had just said about spreader bars. “We have to do that sometime.”

Mikey locked his ankles around the back of the chair, neatly nudging his ass against Gee’s growing hardon and his own erection against Gerard’s belly in one move. “Okay. Yeah, later.” Mikey ended the call and tucked the phone back in the breast pocket of Gerard’s rumpled button-down. He looked down at his fingers, Gerard’s lips spread around them, wet and pink. He could feel Gee’s tongue rolling, the tip of it flicking against the sensitive skin between his fingers. Mikey abruptly wished he had memories of them doing this as teenagers, the two of them sucking on and rubbing against anything they could find. He let the thought half-slip away, determined to enjoy himself as much as he would have then. Maybe even more, since he had the confidence now. So did Gee, if the way his hands were wrapping around Mikey’s hips was any indication.

He slid his fingers out of Gerard’s mouth and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck. He schooled his voice to its usual monotone. “So. Was that distracting?”

 ****

[Exceptions to Every Rule]

Florida is very long. There are a lot of places to buy oranges, and pecans, and peaches, and weird shit made of reptiles. Florida is pretty hot. And long. In fact, a lot of the southern states seemed pretty long to Ray. In comparison to Jersey, anyway. Being stuck in the bus for a day of driving between Orlando and Houston was a little nervewracking, it was true, but they were going to get a short hotel stay in the middle of nowhere, and they were going to drive through New Orleans, which was pretty cool, at least. Not that they’d never done it before, but it was still way more interesting than, say, driving through Montana. Or Iowa.

None of which explained why Frank was going stir crazy. Usually, he’d be reading. Or bouncing off the walls. Or sleeping off the night before. Instead, he was lying backwards in Mikey’s bunk (the one below Ray’s) and kicking the bunk ceiling with his bare toes so it thunked underneath Ray’s head.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunkathunka.

“Frank?”

A brief pause.

Thunk.

Thunk.

After approximately forty-five seconds of this, Ray jumped off his bunk and hauled Frank bodily off Mikey’s, gripping him firmly by the waist and throwing the wiggly little shit over his shoulder.

“Ray!”

Ray grasped Frank’s legs so they weren’t quite so kicky, and began walking to the back of the bus.

“Shit! Leggo’me!”

Ray just rolled his eyes, at both Frank and the laughter coming from the bunks and the lounge. Apparently Frank had been annoying everyone on the whole damned bus before trying Ray’s patience, too.

Ray got to the door of their makeshift recording studio, and paused. Frank started kicking more. Ray slapped his ass and waited. Less kicking, more of a bulge against Ray’s chest. Better. _Predictable little fuck_ , Ray thought fondly. He shifted his burden so he could manage with one hand, and opened the door. He closed it behind them and threw Frank on the nearest chair.

“The fuck, Ray?” Frank’s face was pink from being suspended over Ray’s shoulder.

“You have a fight with Jamia?”

“No...?” Frank sounded confused.

“Are the girls sick or something?”

“No, they’re fine.” Frank was definitely calming down.

 _Thank god for that_ , Ray thought, about the girls and Frank both. Out loud, he said, “Anything else that might be bothering you?” Frank scowled in response. “Okay, I’m gonna break this rule once - _once_ , okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You hurt my equipment, I’m never doing that thing you like again,” Ray threatened.

Frank’s eyes darkened as he caught on. “Wait, which thing?”

“Possibly? Any of them,” Ray said mildly, taking off his shirt. He unbuttoned his shorts and stuck his hand down his fly, looking at Frank.

“Fuck, _Ray_. Um. I won’t fuck with the equipment?” Frank swallowed, his shoulder twitching; it was a sign that he’d started to reach for Ray and then realized he was probably supposed to try to behave for upwards of a minute. A good sign, Ray decided.

Ray nodded, palming his own cock through his boxers almost idly.

“I won’t kick Mikey’s bunk?” Frank tried.

Ray grinned, then closed his eyes, tilted his head back, still moving his hand, and waited for Frank to lose his shit.

“Ray, c’mon.” Frank made a panicked, breathy little sound that might’ve had a soft curse buried in it somewhere, followed by a faint scuffling noise.

Ray opened his eyes again. Frank was out of his chair and zeroing in on Ray’s still-halfway-zipped fly. “Ah-ah. Get naked, you.” Ray grinned, moving to snag a bottle of lube from his gig bag as Frank pulled off his own shirt and pants in no time flat.

“How do you want me?” Frank bit his lip trying not to grin, correctly intuiting Ray’s intentions.

“Hmm. I dunno.” Ray kicked off his shorts and boxers. “You have anything in mind?”

“Hell, yes. I want you behind me, want you to fuck me so hard I get fuckin’ rug burn.” Frank was grinning full-force, a wicked, manic look in his eyes.

He had a point. The rest of the bus wasn’t carpeted, but the studio was, to help soundproofing. If eggcrate foam weren’t so hard to walk on, Ray was sure they’d have put it on the floor, too, but as it was, the carpeting worked pretty well. It’d work well enough for what Frank wanted, at least. Ray smiled. “Show me.”

Frank dropped to his knees and gave Ray a cheeky look before putting his hands on the floor, stretching into it like a cat. He twitched his head left, then right, popping his neck. Ray frowned at the nervous tic, reminded how tense Frankie was. He knelt behind him, smoothing a hand down Frank’s side, over the guns on his back. Frank moaned, cutting himself off with a hiccuped gasp when Ray let his fingers drift over the crack of Frank’s ass.

Ray pulled away, squirting some lube in the palm of his hand to warm it and then touching just the pad of his fingertip against Frank, waiting until he relaxed against it, let him move a little before pushing slowly into Frank’s body. Silky wet heat slid around his finger, and Frank sighed contentedly. It was impressive, really, how well shit like this worked when Frankie was going nuts. When he was too tense to read, you had this wiggly, manic, annoying little loudmouth. Stick something up his ass or get his dick wet, and presto-change-o! Calm prevailed.

Ray’s thoughts were interrupted by a frenzied litany of pleading. _Or not_ , Ray amended mentally.

“C’mon, c’mon, Ray, please, can’t fuckin’ wait, just lemme...” Frank lifted his head like a wolf about to howl, the muscles in his shoulders cording up. Ray slid out his finger and slicked up his cock, thinking he’d slide his way in slowly, open Frank up inch by inch. But as soon as he was the tiniest bit inside, Frankie shoved back fast and brutal, letting out a choked cry that made Ray glad for the soundproofing. Ray watched the back of Frank’s head tilt back a little more, then fall forward.

“Ray--” Frankie managed, and it was high and soft and guttural all at once, barely even sounding like a word, and Ray felt terrible, letting him go for it like that, all of a sudden. Ray was about to pull out, get some more lube, but Frank’s hand flew from the floor to Ray’s thigh, fingertips digging in hard.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Frank panted. “Rug burn, motherfucker.” He squeezed Ray’s thigh a little harder to make his point before letting go, dropping his arm down and hunching down on his forearms. It made Frank’s hips tilt up, obscene-perfect, and Ray gripped them, slid out just a tiny bit and slammed in hard. He wasn’t sure if it’d be too much or not enough. Judging by the faint squeal he heard from Frankie, immediately followed by a gratified, hungry moan, it was both.

Ray tried it again, out slowly a couple inches, in hard enough to make his balls slap against Frank’s. This time, he only heard the moan. He stopped again, slid out once more, and this time he didn’t let up. Frank was perfect, tight, shuddering around Ray with every unrelenting thrust he gave.

Usually, Frankie would be giving as good as he got, moving back against Ray, goading him with demands and praises and random half-realized fantasies. Today, he just made little noises, letting his head fall further towards the floor. Ray wasn’t capable of doing much about it beyond sinking down with him until Ray was bent over Frank, curled around him and pushing him into the carpet. Ray came like that, his blood pounding in his ears, one arm propping himself up, one arm pinning Frank down. He stayed there for a moment, remembering how to breathe.

Ray moved his arms, steadying with a hand on Frankie’s hip and pulling out, slow and gentle like he just hadn’t been. Frank twitched under him, and Ray knelt up, nudging his shoulder to encourage him to roll over.

“Jesus wept, Frankie, look at you,” Ray breathed. Frank’s eyes were huge, glazed over with lust, his legs splayed open. Ray could see the red chafe marks he’d wanted, on his knees and under the ink on his forearms. He glanced down, swallowed at the sight of Frank’s cock flushed red, sticky against his belly, saw Frank’s thigh wet where his dick had brushed against the skin, between his legs, asshole puffy-pink and shiny with slick. It occurred to Ray that Frank was saying something.

“...gonna look all day, shit, am I, like, fucked open and dripping or something? You wanna feel, go ahead, shove your fingers in me, feel empty without you, c’mon, Ray, fuck, feeling this for two days anyway,” and he might have still been talking, but he lifted up his hips and Ray got distracted by the way he suddenly needed to slide two fingers into Frank’s ass. His fingers went in soft and easy, and Frank stopped talking and started keening.

The noise went down Ray’s spine, chased a sweet ache like an aftershock, and Ray groaned, settling low so he could suck Frank’s cock. Clean skin and sweat and Frank’s honeyed toffee soap and sex and sticky precome slid over his tongue. Ray tightened the fingers of his other hand around the base of Frank’s shaft and hummed, pleased as he felt fingers tangle gently in his hair. Any second now. Ray added a finger, twisted them a little, pressed, rubbed his tongue against the underside of Frank’s cock. Little ripples of tension rolled through his mouth. That was it, and Ray hung on, swallowing while Frank gave a muffled shout and jerked his hips.

Frank groaned. “Holy shit.”

Ray relaxed his jaw and fingers, pulled away, and laid his head on Frank’s thigh. “Yeah.”

Frank looked around, smoothing Ray’s hair away from his face. “Didn’t break anything.”

 

 ****

[Everything Really is Bigger in Texas]

Gerard was impressed for two reasons: one, Frank had managed to get a pretty nice hotel suite in Dallas; and two, that Frank hadn’t stripped everyone including himself and declared the gangbang ‘on’ the moment the door was closed. Maybe he was growing a sense of restraint.

“Well, this hotel isn’t as swanky as the last hotel,” Ray observed conversationally.

“But still a complimentary basket of lube and condoms,” Frank noticed, head tilted to the side, radiating barely contained energy. “Huh. California king, too.”

 _Maybe it really is customary to expect this sort of thing when you’re discreet in the planning of an orgy and book the swankiest suite,_ Gerard mused. Mikey would know. He suspected Mikey ended up at more than his fair share of orgies. Not that Gerard could really point any fingers about whose share of group sex was what. Mikey’s probably involved Pete Wentz, though. Gerard spent some moments considering the merits of such adventures before Pedicone interrupted.

“There was a basket before?” Pedicone asked, sounding a little surprised and a little suspicious and a little like he couldn’t figure out just what the fuck he was doing here.

 _Poor guy. We really should have thought of him sooner,_ Gerard considered, thinking of Mike’s many fine qualities.

“Not all orgies can happen at Hotel Babylon,” Mikey said, looking just this side of nostalgic.

“I have dreams about that shower,” Frank said, reverently. “Dreams.”

“Jamia will kill you if you try to renovate,” Pedicone warned.

“Which is why I haven’t brought up my evil plans involving multiple showerheads and a steam room,” Frank nodded. He probably had blueprints. Lots of them. He was pretty good at planning. And pretending to be completely nonchalant about this shit.

Gerard adjusted his pants and crossed his arms over his chest and made himself frown, restraining from tapping his foot with impatience.

“Were you thinking some sort of granite monstrosity too?” Mikey asked.

“Maybe a little,” Frank shrugged. “Actually, slate tile would be nice. Dark slate. The kind of color that would look good with creamy skin pressed against it.”

“You are such a perv for Jamia,” Ray grinned and spared an expectant glance at Pedicone. Pedicone lifted an eyebrow. He was still learning the cues. Gerard was pretty sure that if they were onstage, playing a show, Pedicone wouldn’t have missed a beat there. Gerard was pretty sure Ray was asking for something. He had better be asking for something, anyway. Gerard’d been half-hard thinking about this since before the show yesterday. He was used to walking around with a semi-permanent stiffy onstage, but this was a bit much.

“Who said I was just thinking of Jamia?” Frank smirked.

“Equal opportunity slut, then.” Mikey shook his head, but Gerard knew that look. It was a little bemused and a little fond, with a good dash of filth, and it was all Frank’s. Which was adorable, but--

“Guys,” Gerard interrupted, because they could probably discuss Frank’s promiscuity for days.

“You have no idea,” Pedicone muttered, letting Gerard know he’d said that last bit out loud, and frowned at Ray, who pointedly looked at Mike’s bag.

“Oh, we do,” Ray agreed, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, dude, you should have just said,” Pedicone said, finally catching on, opening his bag and digging around. “All this eyebrow shit ain’t gonna cut it.”

“Guys,” Gerard could admit he was starting to sound a little whiny. It was like they were all doing it on purpose.

They all turned to look at him then, eyes wild and radiating barely-contained lust. It was like a wall. A wall of sex. Holy shit. That was kind of a lot of very intense focus to have on him all at once. Gerard swallowed and licked his lips. Maybe this was too much. An orgy was all well and good, but knowing in the pit of his stomach that he was going to get fucked by everyone in the room was a different thing altogether. Four hot guys were gonna wear him out piece by piece, orgasm by orgasm, just like he wanted. He rubbed at his own neck self-consciously.

“Goddamn,” he said softly.

“Did you think we were going to just talk all night?” Mikey chuckled low in Gerard’s ear, reaching for his shirt and unbuttoning. Gerard let the material slide off his shoulders and felt goosebumps following in its wake.

“I wasn’t sure,” Gerard allowed.

Frank giggled, standing in front of Gerard, undoing his belt. “You thought we were ignoring you?” he asked, tossing the belt away, bending to slide Gee’s boots off. “We could never ignore you.”

“We’re gonna take good care of you,” Mikey promised, eyes dark as he took off Gerard’s pants, sliding off his underwear with them. Gerard stepped out of both and shivered at the chill of the room.

Mikey and Frank stepped away to be replaced by Ray, looking at Gerard thoughtfully, and Pedicone, holding a pair of fur-lined cuffs and wow, that was a decent length of rope. You could do a lot with that.

“I guess you all _did_ go shopping,” Gerard said out loud, a little squeak to his voice as he recalled the conversation Mikey had had with Ray. “Is that silk rope?”

“Yeah, didn’t think I was being too kinky with that purchase,” Pedicone muttered. “Hand-dyed.”

Gerard moved to touch the loops and coils, but Ray reached a hand out and tugged Gerard’s head to the side by the hair. Gerard sighed and stilled.

“Answers that question,” Ray said, a glimmer of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Huh,” Pedicone observed, licking his lips and tossing the cuffs back towards his bags.

“Arms in front,” Ray instructed, reaching for the rope with his other hand.

“Here,” Mikey interrupted, an intensity in his eyes. “I’ll get this side.”

Gerard shivered when Mikey stepped over and took the rope from Ray. He started at Gerard’s wrist, long fingers squeezing for a moment, then wrapping the rope around, and gently maneuvering rope and arms, wrapping and binding. Ray let go of his hair and got his other wrist, leaving Mikey to secure the whole thing together. Gerard chewed on his lip, forcing himself to keep still. _Fuck_ he thought. _They’re really doing this. We’re really doing this._

Mikey kissed his forehead when he finished and Gerard sighed. His arms bent at the elbow, one on top of the other like his arms were crossed, and tied together with rope matching his hair. He had a fleeting thought that someone did that on purpose. But any thoughts were forgotten when the first set of calloused hands touched his ass. They could have belonged to anyone, but he was sure they were Frank’s. Especially when lips ghosted across the base of his spine. Gerard jumped and Ray grabbed his hair again. Shit, that was nice. In fact, if Ray was just holding onto Gerard’s hair the entire night, that would be totally fine with Gerard.

Mikey thumbed a knot in the ropes and looked Gerard up and down. He must look good, because Mikey’s eyes flashed hot and dark and he leaned in for a kiss, biting Gerard’s lip before pulling away.

“Guys, we need to get him less vertical,” Frank whispered, already sounding positively strung-out on sex.

“How much less vertical?” Ray asked, loosing his fingers from Gerard’s hair and letting them tease along his jaw instead. Gerard shivered.

“Enough so I can eat him out,” Frank nuzzled at Gerard’s ass.

“Damn,” Pedicone breathed. “So you wanna get him on his knees. On the bed? I could hold his arms. Or not...?” Mike trailed off in a way that made him sound adorably unsure of his own forwardness.

“Mike,” Mikey said.

“Yeah?” Pedicone asked.

“We invited you to a fucking _gangbang_.” Frank clarified.

“C’mere,” Mikey said, waving a hand. He stepped behind Pedicone, put one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, and moved him forward so he was standing in front of Gerard. Ray and Mikey melted away, and Frank stopped whatever he was doing. Gerard looked down at his bound arms and lack of clothing, then back up at Mike. He was looking too, and when his eyes came back up, Gerard grinned sheepishly.

“Hi.” Gerard bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

Mike lifted his head, hooked a finger through Gerard’s ropes, pulling at them a little, and smiled back. “Hey.”

Gerard lifted his chin a fraction in what he thought was a clear indication of _“Come on, make out with me, I’d grab your hair but you don’t have any and my hands are tied. Literally.”_ Mike seemed to get the hint, anyway, and leaned past Gerard’s bound arms to cup his chin and kiss him. His stubble scraped pleasantly, and despite making out with a tied-up guy he was about to help gangbang, he let Gerard take the lead. His lips pressed firmly but not too hard, softening further when Gerard’s tongue darted out to taste his mouth. Mike’s tongue flicked back in response, tentative until Gerard moaned encouragingly. Then aggressive, kissing back until Gerard was breathless and grinding against his leg, trying to hold onto the fabric of his shirt with the little bit of wiggle room Gerard’s fingers had.

“Fuck,” Pedicone breathed when they broke apart.

Frank looked from Gerard to Pedicone, and waggled his eyebrows. “Toldja.”

Mike made a huffing sound and pulled his shirt over his head, backing towards the bed. Gerard took a moment to appreciate all that skin, those strong shoulders, the ink. He should make Mike take off his shirt for every show. How Gerard could have forgotten how Pedicone looked, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to lick his chest, distracted as Mike reached out to him.

Gerard crawled on to the bed and leaned, letting Pedicone hold him up, and that was a helluva nice feeling. Ray crawled on the bed too, scooting right next to him. Ray’d lost his shirt, too. And pants, Gerard noticed as he leaned over further. Frank was back behind him, encouraging him to part his legs more. Then lips pressed a gentle kiss at the top of his crack, followed by a tongue darting in and down, and did. Not. Stop. Gerard’s brain went on vacation, lulled away by waves of pleasure as Frank licked everywhere.

Gerard moaned and bucked against the arms holding him, pushing back against Frank’s face. Frank hummed, tongue teasing Gerard’s asshole and darting in, licking him open and driving him completely insane. It didn’t help that Ray was sucking a hickey on his neck and encouraging Pedicone to do the same on the other side.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Mikey’s voice came from somewhere behind Gerard.

“Gonna kill me. Shit. Shit. _Shit,_ ” Gerard babbled, not quite in response.

Just when he thought it was too much, that he wouldn’t last, that it wasn’t enough, Frank pulled away, leaving him feeling empty, cold as the air hit his skin.

Gerard whimpered and noticed Ray holding him up instead of Mike and Pedicone scooting off the bed and maybe the snap of a bottle cap.

“You sure?” Pedicone asked.

Gerard had missed something. An important something.

“You heard me,” Mikey answered. “Fuck him open. Slow. He’s ready for it, aren’t you Gerard. He’s leaking for it.”

Gerard whimpered. “Please, Mike. Please.”

“Shit,” Pedicone swallowed. “Shit, fine.” He rested a hand on Gerard’s hip, fingers curling, thumb rubbing gentle circles as he pushed slowly in.

“C’mon,” Gerard tried to push back, but Ray held him fast. It was too slow, not enough. Gerard whined in frustration.

Pedicone must have rolled his hips, because all at once Gerard felt split in two. Pedicone was thick. “Damn,” Pedicone sounded awed. “So hot and tight and _Jesus._ ”

“Move,” Mikey urged.

“Fuckyeah,” Gerard agreed breathlessly.

Pedicone slowly slid almost all the way out, added more lube, and worked his way back in. Oh, god, further. Gerard hadn’t known that there was a further to go, but Mike just kept pushing into him until he was balls-flush and Gerard thought he was going to die. His heart was going to stop, it was so good, he was so full. Mike started a rhythm, a slow frustrating rhythm, building and shifting and trying his best to take Gerard apart one beat at a time.

“Not gonna last,” Pedicone panted. “Him first?”

Gerard almost couldn’t discern what or who he was asking. Gerard was fraying. His fucking _drummer_ was fucking him into oblivion.

“Don’t last,” Mikey answered. “He can wait.”

Gerard moaned in response. He could just see Mikey lifting a knowing, smug eyebrow at Pedicone. Such an evil asshole, Gerard thought fondly. He’d probably been taking lessons from Ray.

Pedicone was frantically thrusting now, coming apart at the seams with each push forward. He shouted Gerard’s name when he came. Gerard’s cock felt impossibly hard, pulsing and twitching, incredibly close.

Pedicone pulled out and promptly collapsed bedside him on the bed.

“You know what?” Frank asked, appearing behind Gerard, sounding thoughtful.

“Yeah, you should totally spit-roast him with Ray,” Mikey answered, doing his mind-reading thing. Or maybe Frank had been making rude gestures again.

Gerard’s cock twitched and he moaned, because hot damn, was that a good idea.

“Goddamnit,” Pedicone muttered, moving to stand. “Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

Frank didn’t need any more invitation than that, spreading Gerard with one hand and lining up with the other. He slid in just the head of his cock, then waited for the space of a breath before thrusting all the way home and waiting again as Ray got into place. Gerard darted his tongue out and licked, tasting salt and something distinctly musky and Ray underneath. He didn’t get a chance to savor it, because Ray snapped his hips and forced Gerard to suck him down. Gerard moaned around his cock, waiting for Ray to grab a fistful of hair again. He wasn’t disappointed. Pedicone’s fingers were digging into his shoulders holding him in place, Frank was fucking him hard and fast, Ray’s cock was down his throat, and Mikey’s eyes were on them all. It was too much. He wasn’t going to last.

Frank grunted praises into his back. Ray was speaking but Gerard couldn’t make out any of the words. He felt like he was out of his body. Floating. But somebody must have said something, because the next thing Gerard knew, his mouth was empty and his was getting a warm shot of Ray’s come on his cheek and sliding down his neck. Frank pulled out and shot all over his ass. Gerard made a keening noise.

He was still hard. Goddamn amazing assholes. His head was swimming, he was so close.

“Can you prop yourself on your arms for me, Gee?” Mikey asked.

Gerard nodded and Pedicone lowered him down onto the bed with his ass sticking in the air. The bed bounced a little as Pedicone and Ray slid off. They could go make out as far as he was concerned. They _should_ go make out. He’d only be sad he didn’t get to see it. And Frank could help. Frankie was always helpful like that. But that wasn’t Gerard’s focus at the moment.

Gerard’s whole world was narrowed down to one person right now. He could feel Mikey’s gaze, his full attention on Gerard. Mikey would take care of him.

Mikey’s hands ghosted down Gerard’s back. One stopped to smear the come Frank had left.

“Look at you,” Mikey spoke. “All fucked open and jizzed on. Gonna be fucking easy for me, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Gerard answered, voice hoarse and fucked-out. “Please, Mikey. Please.”

Mikey shoved in with one smooth roll of his hips and did not let up, not for a second. “Like this?” Mikey asked, thrusting relentlessly. “Hard and fast and--” he shifted his angle hitting Gerard just right and Gee moaned appreciatively.

“Fuck, yeah,” Gerard panted. “ _Mikey._ ”

Mikey reached around and started to jack Gerard in time with his thrusts. Gerard wasn’t going to last. He didn’t know if he’d survive this. It felt like it’d been fucking years waiting to come, like he was shaking with need, weak from it.

“Close, Mikey,” Gerard warned. “Please.”

“C’mon,” Mikey urged, and kissed the back of Gerard’s neck and Gerard came undone, finally, shooting all over Mikey’s hand and his belly and the bed and the fucking walls for all Gerard knew.

“Gee,” Mikey gasped, a split-open cry and came, pinning Gerard into the newly-made wetspot and thrusting in hard with a gasp. He stayed there for a moment, clutching tightly and still in deep, before slumping heavily on Gerard’s back.

“Holy fuck,” Pedicone said, breathlessly. Which was Gerard’s first clue that Frank, Mike and Ray had not, in fact, gone anywhere. They’d been sprawled in a pile, watching. Gerard found enough energy to turn his head. Ray was at the pillow, Pedicone at the foot, with Frank draped over both of them. Mikey moaned softly and rolled off of and out of Gerard, who belatedly realized his arms were killing him.

“Lemme outta these?”

“Gotta turn over,” Mikey said. It took a few moments, but Gerard did. Mikey undid the knots, hanging the rope off the headboard when it was free, and kissed the red circles around Gerard’s wrists. Gerard stretched, groaning, and shook his hands limply before letting them fall to his sides. Something white came into his field of vision. Fluffy. A towel. Gerard gestured weakly and let his hands fall again. Fuckit. Whoever it was could do this shit for him, if they wanted him to clean up so badly. It was Ray who appeared over the bits of white fluff, dabbing gently and smiling for all the world like Gerard had just baked him a pie, or something similarly wholesome, instead of taking several cumshots to various parts of his anatomy. Gerard smiled back because, well, Ray made him feel like that. Some pillows got propped up under his head and he just lay there for a little while until a glass of water got put in his face. That looked pretty good, and Frank held on to it while Gerard sipped slowly. All this being-taken-care-of shit was kind of nice when he wasn’t too trashed to notice. Okay, whatever. They were talking now, and Gerard was pretty sure it was about him.

“...so good, right, especially when you get a, y’know, like that?” Frank was setting the empty glass down on the bedside table and probably making some gestures.

“Oh! Um. Yeah.” Pedicone’s voice, and Gerard felt tentative fingers smoothing his hair. Seriously, how was Mike so fucking sweet? Were drummers always like this? Or was MCR just kind of special? First Bob and now Mike. Adorable. Gerard leaned into the touch, making a soft pleased noise. “I just wish...” Mike trailed off.

Gerard opened his eyes, mostly waiting for the hand to start petting his hair again. Maybe a little curious, too.

“What?” Ray asked.

“Doggy style is fuckin’ awesome.” Pedicone said. Like he needed some sort of disclaimer. “I just kind of wanted to see. Um.” Mike cleared his throat and looked down at Gerard, like it was suddenly awkward talking about him in the third person. Gerard looked back up and tried to appear receptive. Mike actually blushed at the eye contact. _Blushed_. Adorable. Gerard waited. “Kinda wanted to see you come,” Mike said to him.

Gerard grinned. “I’m still right here, man.”

Mike looked away, like he was going to blush some more. Frank nudged him. “He means he can go again. Guy’s, like, the Energizer fucking Bunny or some shit. Ask Mikey.”

There was some shifting on the bed. Gerard wasn’t all that ready to move yet, but he heard Mikey offer, “You wanna see, we’ll pin him down, spread him out for you. Gee’s fucking pretty when he comes.”

“Holyshit.” The last bit was a little muffled from Mike rubbing his hand over his face, then interrupted with a soft noise of surprise. Gerard looked over. Mikey had his tongue down Pedicone’s throat. Nobody appeared to be complaining, least of all Pedicone. Frank looked like somebody had just given him a present, Ray was trailing his fingers down Mikey’s spine, and Pedicone... should have something in his mouth _all the time_. At least, that’s what Gerard’s dick seemed to think, having taken a decided interest in the proceedings.

“...hnng,” Pedicone managed, when Mikey broke off.  
“Yeah,” Mikey replied, sounding like there was a conversation Gerard had missed, somehow. “Over here, Frankie. Ray, like that.”

Frank stood up and moved around, throwing himself on the other side of the bed. Then Frank was kissing Gerard, familiar and perfect and messy, his short fingers sliding down Gerard’s thigh and groping-- no, grabbing. Frank pulled away and grinned, first at Gerard and then across the bed to Ray, who smiled back and picked up where Frank had left off, kissing Gerard soundly.

Ray’s hands wrapped around Gerard’s knee. “That tickles....whoa!” Gerard managed to blurt out as both Frank and Ray pushed his knees towards his chest, holding his legs apart. “Oh!” Gerard said, looking up. There was Mike, looking pleasantly shocked. Gerard felt a wicked grin creep across his face. He licked his lips. “Is this more like it?”

“Yeah?” Pedicone still sounded a little unsure, but that might have had something to do with Mikey being behind him, and whatever Mikey’s hand was doing...oh. Pedicone’s hands were on top of Frank’s and Ray’s, but Mikey was lining up Pedicone’s cock, pressing against Gerard’s ass, and then giving a pointed nudge. “Oh, god, yeah.” That sounded a lot more sure. Gerard bit his lip, flashing a come-hither look that always seemed to work when Mike was drumming, and arched up. Pedicone’s cock twitched as Mikey’s fingers brushed over Gerard’s ass and drifted away.

“Mikey...Mike...shit, yeah,” Gerard encouraged, not really knowing where to even start. Mike took the hint and slid in all the way, lightly slick. Mikey must have lubed him up a little, which was good. Pedicone was so thick; it was easier than the first time, but still. It made Gerard glad for Frank and Ray, pulling his legs open. Mikey, doing whatever Mikey was doing. All Gerard had to do was lie there and let his brain leak out his ears.

“Fuck, yeah, god,” Gerard gasped as Mike settled into a slow beat, then, “ _Frank_ ,” as Gerard felt fingers sneaking in on his right to settle easily around his cock, not jacking him off yet, just squeezing in time. Mike was making some seriously nice appreciative noises, with Ray joining in occasionally.

Wait, what? Gerard didn’t get it until Ray’s hands slipped away from Gerard’s thigh, quickly replaced by one of Mike’s. Gerard looked over to see Ray’s head falling onto the pillow next to his, Mikey throwing a leg over to ride him like a pony. And then the whole room was full of good noises. Pedicone started fucking Gerard in earnest, slamming in, and Frank’s fingers were moving, squeezing, jacking Gerard so fucking perfectly. Time spun out, heavy with sensation, sparkly at the edges of his eyes. Mikey was making that sound, that broken little sound that meant he was already close, so close, anything would tip him over the edge.

“Mike, shit, please. Don’t stop. But. Pull. Pull his hair. Fuck.” Gerard breathed, jerking his head Mikey’s direction. Pedicone let go of his leg and Gerard wrapped it high around his inked torso, grinning when there was a gasp, a plea, and a grunted curse coming from his brother, and then Ray.

And then Mike’s hand was back, pushing Gerard down, pinning him hard, and there was nothing left but Frankie and Mike, pushing him, stroking him, filling him until his toes curled and he was coming, coming hard and shouting something guttural with his eyes squeezed shut.

Gerard got his breath back, becoming dimly aware that he was trapped under a mountain. A muscled drummer-mountain that smelled nice. And was sticky. No, Gerard was sticky. No, everyone was sticky.

“Mmrrmn,” Gerard heard himself say. Rife with fucking eloquence, there. Whatever, Pedicone seemed to get the point and rolled a little. Now Gerard was less under a mountain and more in a haphazard pile of sticky naked dudes. “Mmmm,” he amended, content. Being in a pile of sticky naked dudes was the best thing ever.

“Shit,” Frank responded with similar contentment, summing everything up.

Gerard agreed wholeheartedly. He really fucking loved his band.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content**
> 
>  **Fanart:**  
> [[While I’m Still Young and Horny]](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/7674.html) by ♥
> 
>  **Fanmix(es):**  
> [Closer](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/8008.html) by (Cover not the most work safe!) ♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for dapatty & s0ckpupp3t's 'While I'm Still Young and Horny'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/389261) by [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/pseuds/turlough)




End file.
